


Wild Things

by Rererewritten



Category: The 100
Genre: F/F, Violence, War, smut?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rererewritten/pseuds/Rererewritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Clarke is forced to bear witness to the full extent of consequences set into motion by her people's actions. Aka, one of the plethora of ways 3x07 could have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They're Pious Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on one of the many, many ways 3x07 could have gone that would have allowed the show to keep its "shocking" and "dark" descriptions to wank over itself while not killing off the only character that made it relevant. I have no clue why they did not go this route, especially since it was revealed in the finale that it was nbd to take the flame out without killing the recipient. Assholes.
> 
> Anyway, the title come from the Alessia Cara song. The full title was Find Me (Where the Wild Things Are), but all the fics I've read with those titles have been long and flowy and full of decorative descriptions, and I'm a dialogue girl, so that would have been false advertisement, lol.
> 
> Triggers: I am not usually one to do trigger warnings. I rarely write something that needs it, and I feel like they tend to spoil things. However, there is a scene in this chapter that I can see be upsetting to some as the depiction of it can come across as similar to another kind of act. So, if you are someone who needs warnings, scroll to the note at the bottom of chapter. I'll post it there, so as to not spoil anyone simply glancing over this.
> 
> Trigedasleng: Using Trig in a fic is difficult. As a reader, I find it can take you out of the proper headspace to have to constantly scroll down for a translation, or read the parenthesis. As a writer, it limits what you can say to a few known words and phrases. Plus, I'm kinda lazy. So, when you see dialogue in italics, that means they are speaking Trigedasleng.

Chapter 1: They're Pious Here

 

The gentle heat of the sun warmed over her exposed back, and Clarke grazed the tip of her nose along the side of Lexa’s neck. Lexa hummed with content as she trailed her fingers up and down Clarke’s spine with abandoned laziness, and Clarke sank even further into the body beneath her.

“I really do need to be going now,” she murmured, purposefully close enough to Lexa’s throat that her lips grazed soft skin with every syllable she spoke.

Lexa’s palm flattened against Clarke’s lower back, “Shh…”

“That won’t work this time,” Clarke chuckled, and the sound filled Lexa’s chest with more warmth than a thousand suns ever could. The hand on Clarke’s back slid lower and lower at an achingly teasing pace. Clarke buried her face into Lexa’s neck and groaned, “Not fair.”

Lexa gave her backside a squeeze, and Clarke’s hips bucked into the tan thigh that was placed between her own. Clarke whimpered at the sensation of more stimulation against sensitive flesh, and Lexa’s hand immediately released its grip. 

“I seriously think that if we go again, it’ll kill me,” Clarke admitted regretfully.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa placed a lingering kiss on her forehead and moved her hand back to a more respectable location.

Clarke shook her head and pushed herself up so that she could look at her, “Please don’t apologize for anything that just happened. I don’t regret any of it.”

“I don’t regret it either,” Lexa quickly assured, afraid her apology had given her the wrong idea.

“Good,” Clarke kissed her softly before sitting up on her thighs.

Lexa chased after her lips and pouted when she pulled out of reach, causing Clarke to giggle as she stretched. Lexa’s gaze dropped, taking in the display.

“It’s a good ache, you know,” Clarke noted, smirking as Lexa’s eyes shot up to meet her own guiltily. Lexa nodded in agreement, her tongue suddenly too thick to speak. She knew what Clarke meant, though. A delicious soreness had settled through her muscles and into her bones, and it was sweeter than any high she had ever felt when climbing into bed after a long day of training. 

“One I could get used to,” Clarke added as casually as she could, looking to the side and picking a loose thread on Lexa’s sheets in an attempt at nonchalance. She felt herself sliding back on Lexa’s legs as Lexa rushed to wrap an arm around her and press their lips together with intent. Clarke placed her hands on either side of Lexa’s face and kissed her back just as fully before slowly pulling away. “I do have to go, though. For now,” she added, her thumb tracing the curve of Lexa’s bottom lip. 

Lexa’s brow furrowed, and her mouth opened, but she closed it again without saying anything and gave a stilted nod. She wanted to ask Clarke to stay. She could not bear the thought of Clarke leaving without her trying one more time, now that she knew how Clarke felt. She couldn’t actually ask her to stay, though. She would never forgive herself for putting Clarke in that position.

“What is it?” Clarke asked, drawing her finger along Lexa’s cheekbones and then her jawline, trying to cement every detail of the way she looked in this moment, sitting in the sun, completely exposed, just for her, to memory. “Talk to me.”

“I…I do not look forward to your departure,” Lexa replied as evenly as she could while Clarke was looking at her in that way.

Clarke’s hand dropped, and she wrapped her arms around Lexa and held her close, their torsos pressing together as their foreheads touched, “I’m going to miss you too. I have to go though, I do. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t, and I…wouldn’t be a good enough person to be held in your arms if I didn’t, and I think that would hurt more than anything.”

There was more she could tell her, more she could say, but she didn’t. She didn’t tell Lexa how she wanted to stay, how she wanted to stay here, in Polis, with her. There was not a single fiber in her being that actually wanted to leave, but she had to. It was something she had to do, or she would never be able to forgive herself. She didn’t tell Lexa that she wanted to stay and that she would if she could, though, because it sounded like such an empty sentiment. Even though she meant it wholeheartedly, it rang of consolation in her mind.

She also didn’t say how at the mere thought of leaving, a suffocating heaviness sank onto her chest as if stone tablets were being stacked on top of her, one after the other, pressing down until all she could feel was their weight, and all she could feel was the pain, and the idea of drawing oxygen into her lungs was nothing more than a memory. She also didn’t tell Lexa that the way she looked at her sometimes, the way she was looking at her right now, utterly took her breath away, in a completely different way than the idea of parting. It wasn’t painful, although the realization that such a strong reaction could be drawn from her with one, single look was incredibly scary if dwelt upon. Her body would freeze, and her mind would blank, and for a moment everything would just stop. It was scary, yes, but it was also peaceful and calming and the purest moment of clarity Clarke had ever experienced. 

She didn’t tell Lexa those things, though, because it _was_ scary, and today was the first time she truly let herself even so much as think about them and what they could mean.

“You are more than good enough,” Lexa replied, reaching a gentle hand up to brush away the tears collecting at the corner of Clarke’s lashes. 

Clarke turned her head to kiss Lexa’s palm, then she turned back to kiss the tip of her nose, then her lips.

With a squeeze to Clarke’s hip, and a measured graze of teeth across her bottom lip, Lexa was the one to break the kiss, “You have to go. If you leave now, you can make it back to Arkadia for tomorrow evening.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Clarke raised a playful eyebrow, trying to diffuse the heaviness that had settled over them.

She shook her head, “You need to leave today if you are to make it there before the northern parts of my army arrives; plus, I do not wish for you to spend any more nights out in the open than necessary, so the sooner the better.”

Clarke could feel herself melting at the tender tone Lexa took with her, and she nodded in agreement. 

“I will supply you and Octavia and Indra with my fastest horses and three guards. I’ll write out my orders for the Trikru army. Can you deliver them for me?”

“Of course, but perhaps we should wait to talk politics until we have pants on,” Clarke suggested, earning a smiling kiss from Lexa. She removed herself from Lexa’s lap and slid off the plush bed to begin her search for her discarded items of clothing. She picked up Lexa’s pants and handed them to the brunette who was sitting with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed. She found her underwear hanging off the edge of a candle holder and gave an impressed nod at the fact that it had not caught on fire. She slipped them on and handed Lexa her thigh guards before retrieving her own pants. “Are you not going to help?” she bent over to step into the leg holes.

“No,” Lexa replied simply.

“What happened to wanting me to head out soon?” Clarke chuckled, looking up as she shimmied her jeans up her legs. She was met with a heated gaze quickly looking away, and a flush spreading across Lexa’s chest and neck as her fingers stumbled over the buckle on her guard. 

“I am sorry,” Lexa shook her head as she concentrated on her thigh guards, her fingers tangling with themselves as she felt Clarke near. 

“It’s okay,” Clarke nudged her knees apart so she could step between them.

“It was disresp—“

“Lexa, you couldn’t be disrespectful even if you tried. You think I didn’t notice how patient you’ve been with me? How you waited for me without complaint? I mean, I know I was caught up in myself for a bit—“

“It was understandable.”

“It was unfair to you, and I’m—“

“Don’t apologize. You do that too much.”

“Sorry,” Clarke finished firmly. “I have not…I will always remember what happened, Lexa, but I would by lying if I said that I did not understand why you did it or that I think it was the wrong decision for you and your people. I am sorry for taking my pain out on you.”

“I can take it.”

Clarke’s fingers smoothed down Lexa’s jaw, lifting it, “You shouldn’t have to.”

“Neither should you, but we do,” Lexa released a heavy breath through her nose, her eyes staring firmly at her hands in her lap.

“Lexa, I just spent the last hour drowning in your gaze. You just spent the last hour with your fingers and your tongue inside of me,” Clarke smirked as Lexa’s thighs tensed around her. “And now you’re too shy to even look at me when I am half dressed?”

“It was disre—“

“Not when it’s you. I want you to look at me.”

Lexa’s eyes slowly rose, her pulse giving rise at the sight of Clarke’s pants hanging on her hips, the button unfastened and the zipper down. They made it to Clarke’s stomach, soft and pale and temptingly touchable and paused. 

“Lexa…” Clarke coaxed.

Lexa’s eyes rose so that they were looking straight ahead, and she took a steadying breath as she licked her lips. Fair skin softly ensconced in a corona of sunlight wove its way into a permanent corner of her memory.

“See?” Clarke asked, her voice rasping at her throat. “Nothing to worry about.” 

Lexa let out a huff and rolled her eyes as Clarke placed a kiss on her warmed cheek before holding up a tiny helm.

“It must’ve gotten caught in your shirt. Can I? Or is there proper protocol to be followed or something?” 

Lexa chewed the corner of her lip as that familiar lightness that occurred every time Clarke did or said something that highlighted her considerance and respect for her culture spread through her chest. “You may.”

Clarke nodded and took a deep breath. The look of concentration on her face had Lexa’s entire body feeling weightless. She cupped Lexa’s jaw with one hand while pressing the sticky side of the helm against her forehead, just above her browline. “There,” she nodded, still leaning in. “I think that’s right. You may want to check in a mirror to be sure.”

“I’m sure it is perfect,” Lexa replied thickly.

Clarke leaned closer, her lips puckered slightly, but paused and glanced down to check with Lexa who smiled in response and gave a small nod. Clarke pressed a kiss against the helm, her thumb smoothing across Lexa’s jawline as she breathed in deeply.

 _It is for protection_ , Clarke remembered Lexa’s words the day she had been caught staring in curiosity as she applied a honey-like substance to the helm before placing it on her forehead. When she pulled back, she found Lexa looking utterly bashful, and she realized she had just shoved her topless chest into the warrior’s face. Her own ears pinked as she returned back to her previous task. She found her bra and handed Lexa her other thigh guard. She looked up and smiled to find Lexa now watching her every move openly. It took her four tries to get the clasp on her bra to work right, and she let out a small laugh.

“Okay, I think I’ve changed my mind,” she teased. “I’ll never get anything done with you looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like…like I’m something to be exalted,” she blushed, scratching the side of her neck nervously. 

“It is not something I can help,” Lexa reached out for her as she passed.

“It is incredibly discerning,” Clarke admitted, allowing her fingers to trace down Lexa’s neck and along her collarbone, marveling at the sharp features that were so soft to the touch.

“I will stop looking at you like this when you stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what? How do I look at you?” Clarke asked, staring into her eyes, getting lost in the greys and greens and thinking that if there was such a thing as a Creator, then She was most definitely an artist at heart.

“Like you would go to war for me.”

“I would,” the words slipped out of Clarke’s mouth before she even registered them as a thought. A strong leg wrapped around her waist, and Clarke was spun around and lifted off the floor, her back landing on the bed with a surprised, “Oomph.”

Lexa’s eyes were a charcoal gray as she hovered over her, her pupils blown wide, and Clarke’s body shivered in anticipation, heat pooling low in her stomach as Lexa’s breathed heavily onto her face, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Clarke gasped before Lexa crashed their lips together. Clarke moaned loudly into the kiss, utterly unabashed. There had been flickers of this side of Lexa in their too-brief time together, hungry stares and nails momentarily digging too deep and teeth grazes that borderlined on painful, but they were always swiftly followed by soothing kisses and tender gazes and a steadfast devotion to pleasure that sent Clarke unraveling time and time again. She can’t say that those rougher moments hadn’t left her curious, though. And as Lexa’s tongue pushed its way into her mouth, Clarke eagerly accepted it, her hands flying across tanned skin, gripping and pulling, trying to get the body above her as close as possible. 

Lexa screwed her eyes shut and pushed herself up with a forceful growl that had Clarke trying to pull her back for more, but Lexa shook her head, “You are supposed to be leaving.”

“That can wait,” Clarke replied breathlessly. She raised her leg and smiled at the moan that slipped from Lexa’s lip. 

“I thought I’d sufficiently worn you out.”

“You had, but then you looked at me like that.”

“And how am I looking at you now?”

“Like I’m something to be ravaged.”

Lexa’s jaw tensed as she tried to slow her racing pulse. Her fingers slid across Clarke’s stomach and threaded through one of her belt loops. She gave a careful tug, raising an eyebrow at the faint wince Clarke could not completely mask. “Your body needs a break.”

“My body needs you,” she argued as Lexa rolled off of her. She sat up as Lexa went about collecting the rest of their clothing.

“You should work on your stamina,” Lexa said as she put on her bra and tossed Clarke her shirt.

“Stamina? You’re one to talk, Miss I Need a Quick Nap After Round One.”

Lexa blushed in much the same manner she had after Clarke had made her come undone with only a few touches. When she spoke, her voice was stiff, “It had been a while. And it was you. It was a lot.” 

“It _was_ a lot,” Clarke agreed softly.

“And I recovered quickly, so even if that first time was—“

“Perfect,” Clarke cut her off as she stood. She reached out and pulled her close. “That first time was perfect. _You_ were perfect.”

Lexa let out a small sigh that sounded an awful lot like relief, and Clarke smiled.

“And that second time was perfect as well. And that third time…oh my god, Lexa…”

A smirk slowly crept along her features, “So, you were satisfied, then?”

“More so than I’ve ever been.”

Lexa’s chest puffed out in pride, and Clarke’s gaze darkened as she watched the rise and fall from her breaths. 

“And you?” she asked, unable to completely hide the tentative edge in her voice. “Are you satisfied?”

Lexa swooped in for a dizzying kiss before pulling away with a playful smile, the likes of which had Clarke absolutely grinning, “Enough to last me a lifetime if necessary.”

Clarke’s eyes remained glued to Lexa’s smile. “It won’t be. I’ll be back. I’m coming back.”

Lexa nodded, though her smile faded somewhat.

Clarke shook her head, “No, Lexa, I mean it,” she realized. There was still so much of Lexa she wanted to see. There was still much of Lexa she wanted to know. “After this matter with Pike is settled, I am coming back. To you.” 

“Clarke…”

“Once Pike is dealt with, my people will be back in the coalition. Our people will be one.”

Lexa couldn’t help the small smile that formed at the sound of the words “our people” coming from Clarke’s lips. “There can still be future conflicts.”

Clarke held her tighter and shook her head once more, “We can handle those as they come. I will stay here as an Ambassador. I will represent my people. I can do far more for them here than I can over there. Once the trouble makers are brought to justice, the rest of the Skaikru will be given the chance to see that the coalition is a good thing, that you are a good thing. And then, if even after they’ve been given the chance to see the truth, if they still want to act against the coalition after all of that, then…they will be doing so without my help and without my guidance and without my fighting for their survival, and I will stay here, away from their idiocy.”

“Are you making demands of me?”

Clarke shrugged, unable to meet her eye.

“You sound like a true ambassador,” Lexa smiled.

It was Clarke’s turn to puff her chest in pride. She mirrored Lexa’s smile, “Like I said, it is much easier to talk politics with our pants on.”

“Polis looks good on you,” Lexa noted with a kiss.

“You look good on me.”

Lexa bit her lip and gave Clarke’s mouth a hard stare before turning away and collecting her shirt, “You do not play fair.”

“I play to win.”

Lexa chuckled as she tied the halter top of her shirt and motioned towards the sitting area, “Let me send for Octavia and Indra and the horses, and then I’ll fix your braid, and you can tell me more about this plan of yours.”

Clarke was settled on the floor with a content sigh as Lexa sat on the chair behind her, her fingers lightly scratching along her scalp as they undid the messy braid atop Clarke’s hair, when the Commander asked her to continue, enjoying the picture of a future in Polis for the pair of them that Clarke was painting, “But if your people are no longer in the coalition, then you will no longer be an ambassador. What then?”

“I will still be Wanheda, Legendary Mountain Slayer,” Clarke rolled her eyes at the title, the weight of which did not sit quite as heavily across her shoulders as it once did. “I might as well get some good use out of the name.”

“You are right,” Lexa nodded.

“I know I am,” Clarke replied. Her eyes were lightly shut as long fingers trailed through her hair, expertly weaving the strands together, taking their time even though it was the simplest of her braids.

“No, Clarke, I am being serious. You bowed before me as Wanheda. You bowed before me before the Skaikru were brought into the coalition.”

“What does that mean?” Clarke asked.

Lexa had finished re-braiding her hair, but continued to run her fingers through the loose strands hanging over her shoulders, “It means that your bowing to my rule is not conditioned on the Skaikru’s acceptance of the coalition. It means that you do not loose your place here even if they do.”

Clarke titled her head, “Now who was the brilliant mind that set that up?”

“Wait,” Lexa smiled, actually starting to believe that this plan of Clarke’s could become a reality, as Clarke turned on the floor to look at her. She reached back to her own hair, her fingers passing along the curls before settling on one of the two remaining braids in the underneath layers of her hair and tugging it forth to unwrap the leather tie and charm at the bottom. Clarke didn’t miss the helm that was laced through it as Lexa reached over her to tie her braid. “To secure it better since you’ll be traveling.”

“And for protection,” Clarke added knowingly.

“And for protection,” Lexa gave a pleased smile. “And as far as the ceremony, I only wanted to make sure that you would be able to stay here whenever you wanted and for as long as you wanted.”

“Tell me, Commander,” Clarke pushed herself up on her knees, hands resting atop Lexa’s thighs, “Did that genius brain of yours allow you to see far enough into the future to see me, in your bed, writhing in pleasure?”

Lexa swallowed hard, “N-no, that was something I never even let myself hope for…though, I sometimes failed in my weaker moments.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about those weaker moments…” Clarke leaned into her.

“Think about them in our time apart while you work on your stamina.”

Clarke’s mouth fell open. Yes, there was still a lot more she wanted to learn about the girl before her, “You don’t play fair.”

“I play to win.”

Clarke barked out a laugh, meeting Lexa halfway for a kiss that was more grinning teeth than lips. She followed the light tugging on her shirt and climbed onto Lexa’s lap, straddling her legs. “I’m coming back,” her voice was soft but confident. “I don’t know how long this is going to take, but I’m going to come back here, afterwards. That is, if you want me to…if you’ll wait for me,” Clarke met her eyes as a hint of doubt crept in to her words.

“Of course I’ll wait for you. You act as if girls like you are just falling from the sky.”

Clarke’s lips twitched at the joke, but she shook her head, “Just because you have feelings for someone doesn’t mean you’re willing to work for it.”

“I enjoy hard work,” Lexa languidly ran the tip of her nose over Clarke’s.

“Or that you actually want to be with them,” Clarke’s eyes closed once more at Lexa’s tender ministrations. 

“Clarke…Clarke,” the second time came out a bit more firmly as she pulled back enough to make the other girl look at her. “I want you. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. I want all of it. I am more than willing to work for it. Do—“

“Me too,” Clarke grinned before Lexa could even get the question out. Lexa’s fingers wrapped around the back of her neck as she pulled her down into a healthy kiss, her heart dancing erratically at the confirmation she never thought she would hear coming from the Skai girl’s lips. She allowed herself to get lost in the kiss, her hands settling in the back pockets of Clarke’s jeans, earning a soft hum of approval from the back of her throat. 

Clarke’s tongue was tickling the roof of her mouth when the sound of voices outside the door had Lexa pulling away with a sigh, “That’ll be the guard to let us know that your traveling party is ready for you.”

“Well, they can toughen up and come tell us themselves,” Clarke kissed her again.

Lexa chuckled, “They are well aware of what we have been up to in here. They will not interrupt.”

Clarke’s face flushed, “I forgot they were outside that door. How does that not bother you?” She asked at Lexa’s amused smile.

“In the grand scheme of things, there are far more important matters to worry about. In the more immediate scheme of things, I had far more pressing matters on my mind than to even think about it,” she admitted. “Plus, if I have the chance to be intimate with you, but the only way for that to happen is within earshot of my guards, then I hope they like the sound of your name from my lips…”

“I never took you to be an exhibitionist.”

“I wouldn’t care if the whole world heard, as long as I got to be with you.”

Clarke melted, tucking her head down to bury it in the side of Lexa’s neck, her mouth pressed close to skin to prevent the three words dancing along her lips from escaping. It had all happened so fast, and yet, if she thought about it, she knew this was months in the making, years, decades, probably, considering everything that had to have occurred in order to put them in the exact position they are today. But it still all felt so fast, especially after having fought it for so long. 

The voices outside the door raised in decimal, and Clarke felt Lexa stiffen beneath her. 

"What is it?”

“I am not sure,” Lexa replied, her arm wrapping around Clarke’s back, her head tilting slightly as she tried to better hear the words being exchanged in the hall. A moment of silence sent a worried chill down her spine, before the sound of drawn steel had her standing and swiftly turning to gently place Clarke down on the chair in one clean motion.

“Lexa?” The hint of fear in Clarke’s voice had a growl rumbling in her chest as she pulled her sword out of its sheath from where it lay in her dresser. Metal clanged heavily against metal in the hallway, and Clarke was quickly on her feet. “Lexa, I don’t…” She looked around, waving her gunless hands. 

Lexa carefully placed the hilt of her dagger in her open palm. 

“What is going on?” Clarke asked, blue eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” Lexa admitted. “Hold on to this.”

“I…this isn’t a gun. I don’t know what to do. I don’t…” Her head was shaking frantically, and her hand was shaking, and all she heard was more death, death, death.

“You do know what to do. You are a survivor,” Lexa assured. “You are strong.”

“I can’t lose you now.”

Lexa swallowed back the lump rising in her throat and made a promise she knew she may not be able to keep, “You won’t.”

The door opened, and Lexa took a steadying breath before spinning around, making sure to place herself between Clarke and the intruders. Several of her own guards burst through the door, and she let out a sigh of relief, though she kept her weapon raised, “What is going on? Who was out there?” She looked past them to see one of the guards that had been standing outside her door, strewn on the floor, his neck sliced open. She turned to Georg, his partner, taking in his bloodied sword in confusion, “What is this?”

“I am sorry, Heda,” he shook his head. “It has to be done.”

" _Seize her_ ," Titus commanded as he walked into the room. Hager, the head of Lexa’s personal guard stood beside him, his blade dripping, a bloody handprint wrapped around his neck.

Lexa pushed Clarke further behind her, her lip curling in a snarl, “If you hurt her…”

“ _Not her. You._ ”

“No!” Clarke tried to step forward, but Lexa pushed her back once more. The guards descended on them in a blurry of swords. They were heavily outnumbered, and Lexa wasn’t able to keep her position separating Clarke from the guards for long. She was surrounded and separated, and Clarke lashed out at the three guards that came for her, slashing and kicking and clawing, torn when her blade cut deeply into the upper arm of one of her own personal guards, seeing the crimson that gushed out from the severed artery, knowing the man that had spent the last few weeks protecting her, keeping her alive, even teaching her how to fight, would more than likely not survive the injury she had laid upon him. A strangled yell from Lexa caused her arm to steady, though, and she swung out at the next guard. 

It wasn't enough. She had only been training in combat for two weeks, whereas the guards had been training their entire lives. A blow to her forearm with the staff of a spear caused her to drop the dagger, and a set of bulky arms wrapped around her, pinning her hands at her sides, her toes scraping along the ground as Lexa took down a guard, but took a heavy cut to her side. There was not enough space in the room for all of the bodies and drawn weapons to maneuver properly.

“We do not wish to hurt you, Heda,” Hager informed as the guards circled around her, closing in. Lexa’s breathing came out in huffs, her senses on high alert at the feeling of being caged in. She felt the guards behind her stepping towards her as the guard in front swung out with his spear in distraction. She blocked it and spun, trying to get a glimpse of Clarke in the movement, but unable to see past the bodies surrounding her. Her sword slashed through the thigh of the nearest guard, causing him to fall to his knee. Two more stepped forward, and the sound of Clarke yelling her name in warning turned her blade to fury. She was fast and strong and driven and unwilling to yield.

She was also severely disadvantaged and surrounded in close quarters and a stab to her calf and a staff to her windpipe caused her to falter just long enough for the guards to descend. She was wrestled to the floor, and Clarke yelled out in protest, her voice gravelly with anger and desperation. Lexa fought against the hands holding her arms and legs down as she was pressed, stomach down into the floor. The rough divots of the stone floor that scraped against her skin was a far cry from the inviting flesh she had spent the past hour or so attempting to meld into.

“Let her go!” Clarke’s voice broke as Lexa struggled. “I swear that if you hurt her, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill every single one of you. Let her go!”

Lexa turned her head enough to bite the hand that was pinning her shoulder, and she kicked out at the guard holding her left leg.

“ _Keep her steady_ ,” Titus instructed as he approached her.

A strong punch met Lexa’s jaw, and she had to blink back blackness as her head collided against the floor in the recall. 

“Lexa? Lexa!”

Lexa struggled once more at the sound of the desperation in Clarke’s voice. Her muscles straining as she twisted, and she breathed through the tear ripping across her shoulder as she yanked at her arm to free it from the tight grasp restraining it.

“ _Shut her up_.”

“Leave her alone!” Clarke growled at Titus as he knelt beside Lexa’s body. A cool blade pressed against her throat as the guard that was bleeding out shakily held Lexa’s dagger to her. 

Titus tilted Lexa’s head so that she was looking at Clarke, “ _Stop fighting, or she dies_.”

Lexa’s movements immediately ceased, her stomach turning at the sight of Clarke being held with a knife to her throat, a drop of red trailing down her neck, mimicking the drop of sweat Lexa had been so fascinated by not half an hour prior. 

“Lexa, no,” Clarke squirmed against the arms restraining her. “No, no, Lexa, please, no. Don’t worry about me. Don’t do this. Fight them. You have to fight.”

" _You will not harm, Clarke_ ," Lexa instructed, and Titus gave a simple nod.

“No,” Clarke rasped, her eyes stinging. “Lexa…”

“It’s okay, Clarke,” she spoke as calmly as she could, years of perfecting a stoic demeanor going into this moment, and yet, her words still shook as she took in the broken look on the face of the girl she loved. “It’s going to be okay. I just need you to be safe, okay? Can you give me that?”

“Lexa,” Clarke shook her head.

“Please?”

“I need you to fight. You said you would. You said you’d fight for me.”

“I am,” she pointed out with a sad smile. 

“ _Steady_ ,” Titus instructed.

The guards pressed Lexa more firmly to the floor. Clarke fought once more, but Lexa shook her head. “Don’t look at them. Just close your eyes.”

“I won’t.”

“Then look at me. Focus on me, Clarke.”

Clarke held her gaze as Titus pulled out a medical kit, sliding a scalpel out of its holder. He pushed Lexa’s hair off her neck, and Clarke bit back a curse and a warning of what she would do to his hands once she was free. He drew the knife along the scar Clarke knew resided at the base of Lexa’s neck, her lips having tenderly pressed there as Lexa took a brief reprieve from their first time. Lexa’s hands balled into fists, her eyes narrowing as the blade slid across muscle and tissue, but she didn’t make a sound, swallowing the pain as Clarke looked on in horror and fear. Black stained skin that Clarke’s lips could still feel the softness of.

Titus’ fingers pushed into the wound, and Lexa struggled not to screw her eyes closed, a near blinding pain exploding behind her eyes. Clarke’s jaw slackened as Titus carefully tugged a small item out of Lexa’s neck, tentacle like items still firmly attached to something inside or her, and as Titus’ hand pulled, a blood curdling cry was pulled from Lexa’s lips, her voice breaking as the tentacles tugged, her body slumping to the floor as the object was fully removed. 

“Lexa?” Clarke’s eyes darted back and forth of the Commander’s unconscious form. “Lexa?!”

“It is done,” Titus informed as he placed the object into a rectangular tin container and slid the container back into his medkit before standing, wiping the black blood on his hands on a dirty cloth, unable to look at the unmoving body on the floor without a pained expression. “ _Get her out of here_ ,” he nodded towards Clarke. 

“No,” Clarke struggled in the guard’s grip. “Let me help her. I can help her.”

“Send Wanheda back to her people.”

“ _You said this would keep her safe_ ,” Hager pointed out. “Wanheda is a healer.”

“ _We have our own healers. Summon one_.”

“ _It will be too late. It may already be too late_.”

Titus turned on him, but Georg stood from where he had been holding down the Commander’s leg and pointed his spear at him. 

“ _Your job is done here, Flamekeeper_ ,” he warned.

Hager nodded to the guard restraining Clarke, and she was released. She quickly rushed to Lexa’s side as Hager gave orders to have Titus escorted out so that he may begin preparing for the conclave. Clarke didn’t hear a word of it as her hands passed over Lexa’s face, her fingers traveling down and shaky breath escaping at the feeling of a tentative pulse. The feel of the heart beat, however faint spurred her into action. “There’s a medkit next to the bed. Bring it to me,” Clarke instructed, the steadiness of her voice surprising her as her training kicked in. “It’s okay,” she soothed quietly as she swept the tiny tendrils of Lexa’s hair that were coated in blood off of her neck. “I got you now, okay? So, you have to keep your promise and fight for me. No more broken promises, remember? You swore it.”

The medical kit was opened and placed beside her and she sorted through the vials before settling on a disinfectant which she poured over her own fingers and over the wound slicing through Lexa’s skin and muscle and down to the bone. “It’s a lot of blood,” Clarke shook her head as she tried to clean around the cut so that she could be determine what she was working against, only for it to be replaced by more black, black, black.

_Death, death, death._

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffed back the tears as she applied the coagulant from the kit to the wound, nodding as it helped to slow the flow of blood to a much more manageable viscosity. Her stomach churned at the hint of stony white she could see in the depths of the cut, and she quickly reached for the sutures and set to work. 

“I’m not a neurosurgeon,” she shook her head, explaining to both everyone and no one as her fingers made careful yet quick work of the stitches she had perfected in her time on the ground. “I don’t have any equipment. That…that thing. She could have…she could have brain damage. She needs a proper examination. She may need surgery. My mom…we have to get her to my mom,” she nodded as she finished the sutures. “We have to get her to my mom. They have better equipment. I don’t know how, but we have to get her—“ 

A trained blow to the back of her head sent her ramblings to an abrupt end as her body collapsed across Lexa’s back. 

Hager pointed to Georg and two of the other guards, “ _There is a cart and horses waiting on the south end, away from prying eyes. Take Wanheda to the blockade. She can decide there which side she wishes to stay on_.”

Georg nodded, his eyes falling to the Commander. 

“You heard her. There is nothing more she can do, and Heda…Lex…she is not safe in the capital, especially not like this. The healer, far south from here, she is our best hope.”

Georg nodded, knowing to whom he was referring—the two had had several long discussions of what was to happen to their Heda after Titus had first approached them. He turned to the two guards in his assignment and motioned to the Wanheda. Deen, a member of Wanheda’s personal guard, stepped forward, his broken nose from his fight to restrain Wanheda ignored as he carefully lifted her in his arms, adjusting his hold to better balance her weight. The three guards turned for the door, but Hager stopped them, his lips curved downwards in a frown as he took in the collapsed body in Deen’s arm.

“ _Titus has a toy in his dungeon. It is one of Wanheda’s. Take him with you while the Flamekeeper is busy in the throne room preparing for the conclave_.”

Georg nodded once more before leading the way out. Hager’s eyes passed over the dead bodies of three of his guardsmen before settling on the Commander…the former Commander. He lifted her slight frame without so much as a grunt of struggle before nodding at the remaining guards that had managed to stay upright. “ _Clean this mess_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Lexa gets held down by several guards as the flame is forcibly removed from her neck. Clarke is forced to watch, helplessly.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter. Leave comments or critique or suggestions in the comment section below. I should be updating this fic rather frequently. I expect it to be around 4 or 5 chapters, if I manage to keep the dialogue under control


	2. No Bias Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that left comments. They were all great reads and definitely motivational to continue on with this fic. It has taken me much longer to update than I would have liked, but I was out of town for an extended period, and the internet was all but nonexistent. 30 minutes to load one webpage was too much for my patience.
> 
> Anyway, here's Chapter 2. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Chapter 2  
No Bias Here

 

The smell of trees filled her nose as a particularly large bump jostled her body against the rough blankets beneath her. Her head bounced, and she groaned at the feeling of her pulse resonating within her skull with each motion. 

“Clarke?” a somewhat familiar male voice greeted her, and Clarke opened her eyes to be greeted with a battered face. A wave of incomprehensible anger washed over before she could even recognize to whom it belonged, and she swung out with her left fist, connecting with an already hooked nose. The movement sent her head spinning, and she quickly hefted her upper body over the edge of the wagon, her throat heaving, but her stomach coming up empty. 

“What the fuck, Clarke?”

“You’re okay,” a feminine voice soothed, patting her back, albeit it awkwardly. She pulled her hair back, even though Clarke could only manage an ineffectual dry heave. “Being tossed about directly after a head injury isn’t really the best of things, but these guys seem to be in a hurry.”

“So she hits me, and you tend to her? Some loyalty you got there, Emori.”

“I came back for you, didn’t I? Besides, when you take down my people’s greatest enemy, removing the shadow of fear from every eye, then maybe I’ll coddle you too.”

Clarke slid away from the hand at the mention of the Mountain and settled back on the floor of the wagon, “I don’t need to be coddled.” 

“You’re pretty beat up,” Murphy pointed out when her eyes landed on him without confusion. Of course Murphy was still alive. Murphy would always survive. It was one of the few constants she was sure of. It was oddly soothing, in a way, to know that there was some certainty in life on the ground.

“I can’t possibly look as shitty as you do right now. What the hell happened to you?”

"Your friend Titus—“ he began to explain, but the words were drowned out by the sound of Lexa’s pained scream replaying over and over in her head. She slowly turned to the horse riding beside the wagon, and a rumble formed deep within her chest at the sight of Georg sitting atop, looking no worse for the wear. 

“You…” 

Georg’s eyes widened as Clarke flung herself across the wagon in his direction, but Murphy and Emori managed to get their arms around her before she could land a blow, and she lashed out at the feeling of once again being held back.

“What did you do? What did you do to her?!”

“I did my job.”

“Your job was to protect her!”

“I did my job,” he repeated firmly. 

“Is…is she alive?”

"She is being taken some place safe.”

“That’s not an answer,” Clarke shook her head against the images of Georg’s hands pressed against Lexa’s leg, holding her down with all of his weight as Titus cut into her. 

“She was alive when we departed.”

“Y-you don’t know,” she realized. “You don’t know if she’s alive.” Her eyes stung, and her nails dug into her palms in defense of the tears threatening to fall. “You…you were supposed to protect her. I should have protected her,” she sank into the bodies behind her, and they carefully lowered her down. “What did I do?” She ran a shaky hand over her face. “What did I do?”

“Clarke…” Murphy tried.

Her eyes tiredly moved to his, “What did we do?”

 

++++++++++++

 

Life-weary eyes stared back at her as she stood in front of the grand horse, it’s white coat reflecting the light of the moon more so than that of the fire that it stood so far away from. She held up her hand and waited, unmoving as the horse sussed her out. After a long moment, it raised its nose, and Clarke could feel the short hairs around its mouth tickling her palm. It gave a short sniff, then a huff, before pressing into her hand, nuzzling it firmly.

Clarke swallowed the lump rising in her throat. The horse had never been particularly fond of her, making sure she voiced her dissatisfaction every time Clarke neared the makeshift stalls of the Grounders’ war camp the previous fall. When her own horse threw a shoe in the forest during a riding lesson, and Lexa offered to share her saddle for the ride back to camp, the horse had immediately snatched at her with its teeth, and Clarke determined that she could benefit from a walk. 

But now, she pressed against her hand with such tenderness, and Clarke could feel herself breaking all over again for the hundredth time that day, well aware of the black blood that still stained her hands, of all the parts of Lexa that the leader had left behind on her skin.

Footsteps crunched over the thin twigs littering the ground, and the mare’s ears flattened, as her eyes took in the figure, though her muzzle stayed nestled against the warm palm.

“ _You should rest, Wanheda_ ,” Deen noted as he neared, giving both her and the horse a wide birth.

“I rested plenty in the wagon.”

“You will be riding tomorrow. We will try to reach the blockade by mid-afternoon. It will be an intense journey.”

“And she has been cleared?” Clarke questioned. To say that she was surprised to see the riderless horse tethered to the wagon as they moved through the forest was a bit of an understatement. The last time she had seen the horse anywhere near the trees was when it was running for its life, eyes wild and tail ablaze. Her mane and tail had grown back by the time Clarke saw her again, but the wild look in her eyes remained.

_“She is slowly being reacclimatized to the forest,” Lexa explained as they had moved through the Polis stables towards the stalls that held the two horses that would carry them on their journey to Arkadia to deliver the body of the Ice Queen, Clarke noticing the familiar white mare in a stable separate from the rest. “It has been a slow process, but she is doing well.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why what?” Lexa tilted her head patiently as her hands rested behind her back._

_Clarke had to swallow back the flicker of affection at the familiar movement, “Why bother reacclimatizing her? Why go through the trouble? You have a new horse. You have dozens of horses.”_

_“She’s the fastest horse I’ve ever seen,” Lexa replied. Her brow then furrowed ever so slightly as she swallowed and held Clarke’s gaze, “And she has far too much still to give for me to just give up on her.”_

“She…should be fine,” Deen offered sheepishly before adding by way of explanation, “We need to get there quickly, and she is the fastest horse we have.”

Clarke gave a short nod.

“Just perhaps, keep her away from the fire,” he suggested before turning to leave.

“Deen,” Clarke called after him, and he quickly snapped into place, every bit the trained warrior. “Attis?” She asked after his partner softly, though she was already certain of his fate, the slice to his brachial artery had been too severe. The fact that he lasted long enough to raise a dagger to her throat was a surprising feat, itself.

“Dead.”

Clarke nodded again, the apology on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back, remembering the sound of Lexa’s cry, remembering the white hot fear that paralyzed her at the site of Lexa’s body falling limp, remembering what Attis was there for. 

Deen walked away, the sound of broken twigs softening in his departure, a sound Clarke knew was for her own benefit—she had known the guard to move lethally quiet through the forest like all of the other skilled Grounder warriors Lexa surrounded herself with. She took a slow step towards the horse in front of her, surprised when it did not kick out at her, or even so much as step back. 

“I can’t apologize for fighting for her,” she explained, the all too familiar feeling of guilt creeping up through her chest and filling her rib cage until it felt like her lungs could no longer expand. She focused on it, welcomed it, found comfort in its routine. It was an emotion she was used to. It was one she could carry. And when the alternative was a back breaking hurt that threatened to take over at the thought of Lexa’s unknown fate, it was her only hope of surviving. “I can only apologize for not fighting hard enough.”

 

++++++++++++

 

A distorted reflection stared back up at her as Clarke knelt beside the relatively clear creek early the next morning. She did not need a proper mirror to know that she must look like the death that crowded her at every turn. Her joints ached from the fight, her head pounded from the blow it received, her limbs hung heavily in exhaustion because she had not slept since two nights before—unless her brief stint into unconsciousness counted—because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lexa being surrounded, saw her being held down, saw Titus cutting in to her, all while she stood by, unable to do anything, much as she had stood by and pleaded for Lexa to do the same while her people slaughtered hundreds. Her joints ached, and her head pounded, and her limbs hung, and somehow, her heart continued to beat, forcing her onward, always onward. 

She was supposed to be washing and filling up her canteen, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t place her hands near the water for fear it would wash away the blood and with it, the last true piece of Lexa she may ever hold. A snap of twigs came from behind her, and she sighed, knowing it was Deen come to see what was taking her so long. 

However, a hand on her shoulder, caused her to jump to her feet, knowing a guard would never lay a hand on her unless it was absolutely necessary. She spun around, being met with an unfamiliar face and a large hand to her neck. 

“ _What do you have for me?_ ” He asked, drawing her up until her toes grazed over the damp earth.

" _Nothing_ ," she croaked out. “ _I have nothing_.”

“ _I saw your camp. Fine horses like that means you do_.”

Clarke kicked out, meeting his thigh with her boot, but without any leverage, all it caused was a wince and a tighter grip around her neck in reply. “Go fuck yourself.”

He blinked in confusion at the language, and as he opened his mouth to reply, a spear threaded its way between his ears. Clarke’s eyes widened in shock as she and the man both fell to the ground. She scrambled backwards to find Georg emerging from behind a tree. 

“ _Fucking bandits_ ,” he cursed as he placed a boot on the man’s shoulder and removed his spear from his skull. 

Clarke glared up at him from her place in the dirt, "Why not just let him kill me?”

“It is my job to protect you, Wanheda.”

“Like it was your job to protect her.”

“I _was_ protecting her.”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear the lies you tell yourself in order to sleep at night.”

His grip on his spear stiffened, and for a moment, Clarke thought he was going to strike her with it. For a moment, she wanted him to. Instead, he said, “ _You need to clean yourself. It is time to go_.”

“I am fine like I am.”

He took a towering step towards her, and Clarke quickly rose to her feet in defiance, “What do you think will happen when we join the warriors on the blockade and they see you covered in Nightblood? Do you think they will wait for an explanation?”

Clarke frowned, knowing he was right. She turned back to the creek and crouched down, swallowing hard before shoving her hands into the cool water. She scrubbed at them with her nails, feeling her eyes burn as the dark blood was carried away from her in the soft currents. She splashed the water on her face, rubbing at her forehead and her cheeks, removing any traces of Nightblood and tears. 

“Happy now?” She asked, her voice nowhere near as strong as she would have liked as she stood and dried her hands on the sides of her jeans. When she turned around, Georg shoved a simple leather bag towards her. “What is this?”

“A fresh shirt and a jacket,” he explained as she opened the bag. “And…” his voice trailed off as a shaky hand retrieved a reddish orange bundle from inside. 

Clarke’s fingers smoothed over it with reverence before she unfolded the material formerly belonging to an elegantly imposing sash. “What is this?” She asked again as her fingers smoothed over the intricate dagger. “She…she never goes anywhere without this. She needs this. You shouldn’t have taken this,” she scolded him even as her fingers wrapped around the handle in an unbreakable grip. 

Georg nodded, “Then you should look after it closely until you are able to return it to its rightful owner.”

“If you think this in anyway makes up for—“

“ _You should change_ ,” he turned his back and headed towards their camp that was already packed up. 

 

++++++++++++

 

The sun was halfway through its descent when the guards on either side of Clarke finally slowed their pace. Murphy, Emori, her small group of friends—bandits she had rounded up in an attempt to save John, arriving at the outskirts of the capital just as the wagon was leaving—and the guard and driver had kept on with their slower pace, content to arrive at the blockade sometime after dark with the wagon of supplies. Fortunately for their journey, and unfortunately for Clarke, the various assessments of the horse beneath her had all been far more accurate than she would have liked. She was fast. Very fast. Fast enough for Clarke’s hands to blister as they gripped onto the reins, holding on with all that she had, the gloves she had found in the pack doing little for protection against the day-long barrage of textured leather digging into her palms. Simply mounting the horse had been a feat in and of itself with her hands cleansed of Lexa’s blood, but the remnant of a regal sash had been enough of a bribe to calm the horse just long enough for Clarke to be able to clamor onto its saddle. It had been the easiest part of the entire ride.

The trail opened up to their right and Clarke’s jaw set at the piles of ash and splinters, all that remained of the funeral pyres for two hundred and ninety-nine soldiers. They avoided the field, still stained with blood in places the rain had not yet reached, and slowed their horses even further as they approached the camp, a mass of tents, covering an entire plain and dipping into the tree line, a mile or so behind the blockade line. The ground rumbled with life as warriors went about their daily activities, patching tents, sharpening blades, cooking dinner, as they waited for their shift at the blockade line. 

The warriors on the edge of the camp closest to them did several double takes, and Clarke had to wonder how recognizable she was on top of the grand horse, how distinguishable she was from the Grounders on either side of her. Could she blend in? Or did they see right through her for what she was: a foolish girl playing dress up? Georg called over a nearby Grounder mending the sole of his boot, asking to be guided to Indra. The man opened his mouth with a harsh retort, but Georg pointed to the symbol on his jacket, denoting his status as a member of the Commander’s guard, and shook his head. The warrior quickly rose to his feet, and led their horses around the outskirts of the camp towards one of the larger tents. 

The guards at the tent flap immediately snapped to attention as the trio on horseback dismounted and approached.

“Wanheda,” the one on the left greeted with a low nod. Clarke recognized him from the previous fall, a tall, lithe fighter around her mother’s age who was one of the few patient enough to accept the brunt of Indra’s temper. She was glad to see that he had not been slaughtered on the field with his brothers and sisters, and at any other time she would have broken a hint of a smile at the sight of him, but looking at him reminded her of Indra and Indra reminded her of Lexa, and the thought of Lexa set her staggering unsteadily. 

So, she settled for a nod in reply and entered the tent when the flap was pulled aside for them. Indra stood at a rectangular table, staring down at a large map and occasionally adding marks with a chunk of charcoal. 

“ _I had given up on you coming_ ,” Indra noted, glancing up at her and back down at the map. Clarke noticed the empty sling hung around her neck, and the medic in her wanted to say something, but as she watched Indra, her mouth lost all ability to function. Her mind immediately filled with images of Lexa and their first meeting and raised hands of silence and heated commands and Lexa and fields of bodies and Lexa and _death, death, death_. 

“I am guessing you would like an escort back to your home?” Indra asked, not even bothering to look up. “I will send orders to the blockade to let you and Heda’s guards through.”

Clarke took an unsteady breath, her hand finding purchase on the hilt of the dagger resting at her waist, grounding herself with something real, something here.

“I will not offer any of my men. The last messengers will not be returning back from Arkadia. But I suppose your guards have been instructed by Heda to stay with you the entire way.”

“Indra.” Georg called her name to cease the army leaders’ movements and pull her attention.

She finally halted her markings and turned to them impatiently, “ _Has Wanheda lost the ability to speak on her travels_?”

Clarke’s grip tightened on the dagger, the padding of her fingertips filling the crevices created by detailed engravings, and the movement so close to a weapon drew Indra’s eye. Her gaze widened as it fixated on the blade. 

“ _Why do you have that_?”

Clarke swallowed.

“ _Why do you have Heda’s blade_?” She demanded storming towards her. Georg and Deen immediately took a step forward, blocking her from getting too close. 

“Lexa is…she’s not Heda anymore,” Clarke managed. “ _She’s gone_.”

“ _Gone?_ ” Indra growled. “ _What did you do_?”

“I tried—“ her voice broke, but Georg interrupted.

“ _We have a lot to discuss_.” 

The four of them settled around the table, Deen and Georg on either side of Clarke, keeping her as far away from the hardened General who looked as if she were seconds away from attempting to rip apart the sky girl with her bare hands. Clarke sat slouched in her chair, unable to look Indra in the eye and face the blame she already bore, unable to look at the table before her that reminded her all too much of the one she had pinned Lexa against a few months prior, forcing an emotional confession from her gasp, unable to look at her lap and the bloodstains she knew were hidden in the dark coloring of her pants.

When Georg opened his mouth and began to explain, however, she straightened in her chair, focusing on his face as he revealed the motivations behind the attack. He told them of the angry dissent amongst a group of Ambassadors, how they had paid a group of guards to assassinate the Commander in retribution for her refusal to punish the Skaikru as they saw fit. He told them how Titus had found out and approached Georg with a counter plan, a way to quell a rebellion while giving Heda a chance to survive. 

“ _Why didn’t you just kill the plotters_?” Clarke asked through gritted teeth.

“ _We weren’t sure of everyone involved._ ”

“ _Why didn’t you inform the Commander_?” 

" _This was the only way_."

“According to Titus.”

" _She never would have given up the flame on her own_.”

“Because she cares about her people too much. And you punish her for it and reward those only thinking of themselves.”

“300 people were slaughtered in their sleep,” Georg bit back.

“And Lexa called for the aggressors. She was going to punish the people who did this! She was trying to do the right thing and spare the innocent.”

“Sparing the innocent led to another village nearly being wiped out.”

“The blockade would have worked.”

Georg sighed, “I know. But we were out of time. We were tipped off that the attack was planned for last night.”

“ _What happened_?” Indra demanded with a heavy fist to the table, breaking up their argument.

Georg nodded and went on to inform Indra of Titus’ plan and how they executed it, and Clarke did her best to block out his words, but she could not block out the memory, and she gripped Lexa’s dagger once more as images of Lexa being tackled to the ground replayed over and over in her mind. The tent settled into a heavy silence once he was done, and Clarke fought against the urge to cover her ears against the sound of Lexa’s scream echoing around her.

“ _Is she…alive_?”

" _I am not sure_ ," Georg admitted, and Clarke briefly entertained the question of how many stabs she could get in on the body beside her before the seasoned warriors took her down. “ _Hager took her south_.”

Clarke quickly perked up at this piece of information, “ _South? South where_?”

“ _South_.”

“ _Where—_ “

“ _The conclave will begin soon_ ,” Indra cut her off. “ _We will be getting a new Commander_.”

“Aden,” Deen nodded. “Heda was sure of him.”

Clarke studied the black blood she had been unable to scrape out, dried beneath her nails, her breath catching, “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Wanheda?”

“There’s a Nightblood,” she caught Indra’s eye. “She was trained by Nia. She’s older. Harder. Aden is just a kid compared to her. None of them stand a chance.”

“Heda was just a kid compared to some of her fellow novitiates,” Georg pointed out.

“I saw this girl,” Clarke shook her head.

“If you’re right, and this girl wins, war will be declared on your people,” Indra pointed out.

“It’s why the Ambassadors plotted the assassination. They knew about Ontari. They knew the next Heda would agree with their vision,” Clarke realized. “What do I have to do to fix this?”

“Clarke,” Indra shook her head, and the use of her real name caused a brief moment of calmness to pass through her.

It was gone all too soon, but had given her just long enough to collect herself, “Lexa told me about the conclave. It starts with a ceremony, right? What exactly happens in that ceremony?”

“The purification ritual,” Georg explained. “The old Commander’s body is prepared to be burned through a purification process that the novitiates carry out in order to pay their respects.”

"But they don’t have her body. Will that buy us time?”

“Yes…some.”

“What do I have to do to keep all of my people from dying?” Clarke asked Indra. “What do you need? What does your clan need?”

“They need justice. You cannot ask them to just forget all that has happened.”

“I’m not,” Clarke quickly assured. “I won’t ask that. I know what happened was wrong, unforgivable. But killing everybody is not the answer. If it were any other village, would you kill all of them for the actions of a few?”

“Your people put Pike in power,” she reminded.

“I know,” Clarke hung her head. 

"But they did not know of his plan," Indra conceded.

Clarke looked up in surprise.

“Octavia has informed me about the happenings of your camp.”

"What if the Skaikru hand over the guilty?” Clarke asked. “What if they voluntarily hand over Pike and agree to place Kane back in charge?”

“It would have to be all of the guilty. Pike may have made the decision, but there were others volunteering to hold the guns. It was your friends at the village. It was your friend that killed two Trikru messengers.”

"Who?"

“Bellamy.”

Clarke took a steadying breath, rotating her wrist against the feel of handcuffs and betrayal.

“It cannot be just Pike.”

“Everyone who played an active part will be brought in,” Clarke agreed, her voice low but steady. “They had their chance. Lexa gave them plenty of chances, and they shot through every single one of them.”

 _They shot through her_ , Clarke drew a deep breath through her nose to keep the stinging building behind her eyes at bay. 

“If the guilty are turned over, and the Skaikru agree to our terms of peace, then there may be a chance to save your people. If they do this, then they will have Trikru’s support.”

"And if they don’t agree?”

“Would you rather for my people to take the village or to wait for Ontari’s?”

"Yours," she nodded, swallowing heavily. "At least then..."

“We will be merciful to those that do not stand in our way.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Clarke replied in earnest, knowing that the Skaikru were out of chances, and grateful for Indra giving them one more, despite the fact. "It's more than I could ask for after everything."

“It is what Heda…Lexa would want.”

Clarke bowed her head and blinked back the tears forming.

 

++++++++++++

 

After pestering Georg for further information on Lexa’s whereabouts and being met with stony silence, Clarke settled in the tent she had been presented with and flipped on the radio Indra had granted her after she had asked about Octavia’s whereabouts. She switched to the seventh channel and clicked the code of beeps Indra had instructed her with before switching to the third channel. A hiss of static crackled in the air before Octavia’s broke through, “Indra?”

“It’s Clarke,” she replied, wondering if it was just the radio distortion or if Octavia’s voice seemed different, darker.

“Clarke? Where are you? We tried to wait.”

“I’m at the Grounder camp just north of the blockade. What are you doing? Indra said you snuck into Arkadia?”

“We…we tried a rescue attempt,” she explained. “Pike had all the grounders from medical and Nyko and Lincoln locked up. Anyone that questions him is being thrown in, too. Things are out of control. Bell…”

“I know.”

“We wanted to put a stop to it before things got out of hand and the Grounders attack. An imaginary line the Commander drew won’t hold them if Grounders keep being shot.”

“What happened?”

“We…we had it. We had him, Clarke. Kane had Pike, and he was going to take him to the Grounders. But Bell stopped them. Now, everyone is locked up. The Grounders, Lincoln, Sinclair, Kane, and…Pike sentenced them to death. They’re gonna execute them tomorrow evening.”

“Octavia…” Clarke shook her head, recognizing the darkness of her voice now, hearing it in her own.

“We have to do something, Clarke. Tell me you have a plan.”

"We do, but Octavia, things have changed. Lexa’s not the Commander anymore. If Skaikru doesn’t give in to Trikru’s terms now, they will be wiped out. Who in there is on our side? Who in there can help spread the word. We need to inform as many people as we can that if the guilty are not handed over, Arkadia will be attacked. I can’t save them anymore.”

“Lexa’s…dead?”

“Octavia, focus, _please_.”

“Well, we don’t have much with everyone locked up. Your mom and Harper and Miller have all been helping. I am sure there are civilians who do not agree with Pike, but I’ll have to speak to Miller for names because I haven’t been here.”

“What about Raven?”

“Clarke, there’s something you should know. Something else is going on here. Jaha’s back, and he has these chips…”

“Murphy told me about them,” Clarke nodded, sitting on the small cot in her tent, feeling the pull of sore muscles and twisted joints. Yesterday’s ride in the wagon had been informative to say the least. 

“Murphy?”

“What about Raven?” She pressed.

“She took the chip, but she found a way to break free. Something about our bracelets, I’m not sure. She was in so much pain, Clarke. She wasn’t making much sense. Your mom gave her a sedative. I’m with her now. She’s sleeping. I don’t know if we’ll be able to count on her just yet.”

Clarke rubbed a tired hand over her eyes, “Okay, yeah, just…she’s okay, though?”

“Abby says she should be okay. Walking around without feeling pain caused her to push herself too far, and she’s messed up her leg pretty bad. But, she’s tough, and Abby says the fact that she can feel pain is a good sign.”

“Okay…Okay. So I need you to try and spread word. I will be there tomorrow morning with the conditions of a truce. If nothing else, make sure everyone is at the gates to hear.”

 

+++++++++

 

She wanted to walk over there with her hair a concordance mess of intricate braids. She wanted to walk over there with jet black war paint streaking over her eyes and staining her cheekbones. She wanted to walk over there with a sword in her hand and a dagger on her hip and a war cry on her lips. She wanted to make a bold stance that left no doubt in any of their minds where her loyalty lay—with _her_.

She knew she couldn’t do that, though, not if she wanted to get through to them. She needed them to trust her and to listen to her, not cast her off as one of _them_. If she were going to convince them to hand over the guilty, she needed to lure them in with the Clarke they once knew, the Clarke that kept their children safe after the government sent them to die, the Clarke that rescued them from imminent war with the grounders, the Clarke that rescued them from the basement of the Mountain. She was still that Clarke. After all, she was doing this in order to save them, once again. It’s just that now she was so much more, but she knew that this new side of her needed to be squashed so that she could do her job.

So, she washed the dirt and forest off of her face. She took out all of her braids, except for the thick one atop her head that kept her hair out of her face—she could still feel Lexa’s fingers sliding across her scalp as she expertly mended it. She slipped on the thin long-sleeved shirt she had worn the days before, the one Lexa had presented her with in Polis. The simplicity of it had reminded the leader of Skaikru clothes, and she had thought it would help Clarke feel more at home. Clarke fingered a small black stain on the edge of the sleeve that she had not been able to wash out in the creek, hoping that she would one day get the chance to tell Lexa that all she needed to feel at home was to be by her side, praying on the constellations hidden in the daytime sky that it wasn’t too late. Deen had scrounged up the simplest jacket he could find, and Clarke straightened the collar with a heavy sigh as she exited her tent. 

Two Trikru warriors stood, hands on their swords at their hips, waiting for her signal that she was ready to be escorted down to Arkadia. Indra had decided to send two of her own warriors after all, wanting them to represent Trikru and bear witness to the terms Clarke was to present. Deen had been instructed to stay behind at her tent, and the other Polis guard was keeping an eye on Murphy who was staying behind with Emori and her friends. Murphy had informed her upon his arrival that he held no desire to return back to the actual Skaikru settlement, and Clarke felt returning with a beaten Murphy who had been tortured at the hands of a Grounder would do nothing but hurt their cause anyway. She had to admit that she had a new found respect for the hardened teen. She had always admired his ability to survive and push on, likening him to a cockroach, but to see him so willingly stay in a Grounder settlement after having been personally harmed so many times by different groups of Grounders really struck a chord within her. 

_“I’ve found it’s best to hate people for who they are rather than what they are,” he’d shrugged._

The fact that John Murphy, of all people, knew better than to hold his pain brought on by a few against the whole, only caused her blood to boil even hotter when she thought about the actions carried forth by the people of Arkadia. She did not forgive him for his past, but she respected him for his current actions, and she couldn’t help but look at him and the way he interacted with Emori and her friends and feel hopeful that an eventual peaceful blending of cultures was actually possible. Hope was the only thing driving her forward at this point.

She met the two warriors eyes, Charl and Cean they had introduced themselves as earlier after some prodding, and nodded. The dagger that was secured beneath her shirt by the blood orange material that Clarke swore still smelled like _her_ pressed into her back and forced her to stand tall despite the tiredness weighing her down after a second night of no sleep. The guards stepped up to flank her sides, and Georg stepped into place behind her, his spear in hand. Together, the four of them began their journey out of the clearing and through the forest, to its edge where Arkadia lay. A large group of warriors followed them, but paused behind the tree line, watching closely as they approached the camp, on their way to start a conversation that would unintentionally lead to one final battle to determine the future of Arkadia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any spare time, make sure you go and throw some votes Clexa's way in the eonline polls. Best Couple and Best Kiss are the two that really need attention right now.


	3. I'd Rather Be a Wild One Instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, just wanted to say thank you so much for the reviews and comments. I love hearing your thoughts on things. I also wanted to address something that I've seen mentioned a few time, and that is Lexa. So, if you want to see my notes on her just hop on down to the author's note at the bottom of the chapter.
> 
> Also, amazing job on the E! Polls. The way the fandom has united recently has been so incredible. If y'all have the time, hop on over to tumblr and reblog/like the clexa post for MTV's Ship of the Year. Show the girls as much love as they have been showing the fans.
> 
> Okay, chapter time. Enjoy!

 

I'd Rather Be a Wild One Instead

 

The walk to the gates of Arkadia seemed far longer than her walk away from Camp Jaha. Charl and Cean flanked her, keeping one step in front of her, setting a steady pace, their eyes trained on the guards in the outlooks on top of the wall. Clarke held her head high as they walked, though her eyes darted from the guard stands to the gates, wondering if they would welcome her in or send someone out to talk. She could hear them shouting, alerting others of their arrival, but could not make out the return orders.

The Grounders stiffened around her, though they never broke their stride, and Clarke looked to find two bodies, one on either side of the trail, just outside of the gates. A threatening rumble came from deep within Charl as they neared and were better able take in the fallen Grounders, their bodies left exposed. There were gunshot wounds through their skulls, and the large exit cavities of the back of their heads remained open to the elements and insects and even a few small animals if the bite marks and tears in their clothing were anything to go by.

Clarke couldn’t mask her stumble. _Death, death, death_

“ _The messengers_ ,” Georg explained, though Clarke had already guessed as much.

 _Bellamy_.

“They… _I’m sorry_ ,” she whispered, shaking her head. “We’ll give them a proper funeral. I’ll make sure of it.”

The gate to Arkadia opened, and it was Bellamy that walked out of the large gate to greet her. Clarke wished it had been Pike instead. The anger she felt for Pike was nothing compared to the anger she felt towards Bellamy who knew better and continued to turn his back on her and Octavia and peace, despite multiple warnings and chances. It was harder to keep her cool because of that anger, especially with the evidence of his actions against her and Lexa’s hard fought peace laying so unceremoniously in the nearby dirt, and keeping her cool was a must considering the three automatic rifles pointing down at them from atop the wall. She eyed them carefully as her small convoy came to a halt, noting their positions and the way the guns were pointed at the three Grounders. This was bigger than her and her anger.

She caught Monty’s eye behind one of the rifles and had to suppress her surprise at seeing him siding with Pike. His gun wavered, and Clarke chose to take that as a sign of hope that it wasn’t too late for him as well. She drew in a steadying breath and allowed her gaze to fall on Bellamy as he strode towards them, pistol at his hip, rifle across his back.

“They can’t come in with you, Clarke,” Bellamy informed.

“So I’ve gathered,” she nodded towards the guards on the wall. “That’s okay, we can talk out here.”

“Or you can come inside without them,” he suggested with the pair of puppy dog eyes she had seen him use on multiple occasions in order to coerce Octavia to listen to him when they first landed on the ground.

“I came here with a warning,” Clarke ignored his offer. She raised her voice so that the guards on the wall, and hopefully some of the people Octavia was supposed to have gathered curiously on the other side of the door would hear. “The Grounders will not be standing behind the blockade line much longer. They are going to attack. You can avoid this by handing over the people involved with the attack on the army sent to protect you.”

“I am hearing a lot of you’s and no us’s in your speech, Clarke. You seem to be making it clear whose side you’re on in this.”

“I am on the side of peace,” she replied, her voice strong with conviction. “I am on the side of protecting the innocent.”

“So are we.”

“ _You_ slaughtered that army while they slept, Bellamy,” her voice came out in a hiss.

He took a step towards her, and Charl and Cean closed ranks.

“And then you and Pike and the rest walked around and executed the wounded as they lay there, harmless and defenseless. _You_ did that!”

A soft grumbling could be heard from the other side of the wall.

“Lower your voice,” Bellamy demanded.

Clarke shook her head in disbelief. Octavia had been right in their talk that morning, Bellamy was more than aware of the awfulness of his actions as evidenced by the fact that he was too ashamed to even admit what he had done to his own people, and yet he stands by what it and continues to try and carry out similar actions.

She held her hands up to indicate she was dropping it. Antagonizing him at this point went against what she was trying to achieve. People on the other side of the wall had heard the truth about the massacre. Word would start to spread on its own. She only needed them to see that something must be done immediately to rectify the actions of the few if the rest wanted to get out of this alive.

“I am here because this is my home,” the lie left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she pushed on. “I am here because these are my people, and I have always done whatever is necessary to keep them alive. You know this. They know this. So, listen when I say that the guilty must be turned over if a war is to be avoided, and don’t make the mistake of thinking, even for a moment, that this is a war Arkadia can emerge from victorious. It will be wiped out.”

“This sounds more like a threat than a warning.”

“It’s the truth. Pike has pushed and pushed and pushed, and Lexa has continuously turned the other cheek because she believes in peace and because I have been fighting my ass off to protect you lot, but that’s over now. You have gone too far too many times. Slaughtering an army sent to protect you. Attacking a village of non-warriors in the dead of night. Shooting messengers. These indiscretions, these war crimes, can no longer be ignored. The Grounders demand blood, and Lexa is no longer around to qualm their desire for vengeance.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, “Lexa's gone?”

Clarke clenched her fists and bit back the urge to yell at him for daring to speak her name, “Yes. And I’ve seen the person that will replace her as Commander, and she is ruthless and cold-hearted, and there is nothing I can do to protect you anymore.”

Bellamy scoffed, looking up and over his shoulders at the guards on the wall as he called to them, “You guys hear that?”

“The savage Bitch is dead!” one called back in excitement.

“Looks like we’re making headway. I think this calls for a toast tonight,” Bellamy laughed. He turned back to Clarke, just as her left fist collided with his jaw with a satisfying thwack. She caught him on the cheek with her right, re-opening the fresh cut that was adorning it. He shoved her forcefully backwards, and the sound of swords sliding against their sheaths filled the air.

Cean caught her by the back collar of her shirt, steadying her on her feet, as he and Charl stood with their swords pointing towards Bellamy. Georg aimed his spear at the guards on the wall, as Charl warned lowly, “Wanheda is not to be harmed.”

Monty lowered his gun and raised his hands, shaking his head. Hope once more flitted through Clarke’s mind, catching his movement out of the corner of her eye. She trained her gaze back on Bellamy whose jaw was set.

“Are you threatening me?” He questioned Charl, his hand rising to his waistband slowly.

Clarke’s eyes widened, and the Grounders stiffened to high alert at the movement, “They are only worried about my safety, Bell,” she tried using the nickname to lure him back to a sense of calm, softening her voice as much as she could with the white hot anger coursing through her veins. She knew the Grounders were watching at the trees, and she knew that if this talk went south then they would not be waiting on word from their new leader before they attacked.

“I’m not the one putting your safety at risk,” he replied evenly, “They are.”

He had his gun drawn before the two fighters by her side could step within striking distance, and with two quick shots, both warriors fell to the ground with a heavy thump. A third shot came from the wall, and while Georg had time to launch his spear and land it squarely in one of the guards’ neck, he did not have time to dodge the rifle round sent his way by the now dead guard’s partner. Clarke looked at the three fallen Grounders laying at her feet in shock, her breath coming in gasps, and her hands shaking. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly looked up at Bellamy.

“They were protecting me,” she shook her head in confusion. Her hand pointed to Georg’s corpse behind her, “He saved my life.”

“ _I_ just saved your life,” he corrected. “You are going to thank me for this one day.”

Clarke felt something inside of her snap, and with a yell, she launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground. The back of his head bounced on the solid ground, and she hit him square in the nose with all her might, “You ruined everything!” Her right fist was quick to follow, fingers lightly gripped, thumb out, just as she had been taught in the training sessions Lexa insisted she take during her stay in Polis.

_“Are you saying I can’t take care of myself?” Clarke had asked indignantly as Lexa helped her rearrange the furniture in her room so that it was more to her liking. It was the day after the duel, and Clarke was trying her hardest not to completely melt at how Lexa was so clearly going out of her way to make her feel at home. Not yet._

_“Of course not, that would be foolish. You have more than proven yourself to be a capable survivor, Clarke,” she put the chair down with a huff. Clarke had initially protested against her help, saying that she should rest after the previous day’s fight, but Lexa had insisted that it was the least she could do after Clarke’s attempts to save her life._

_Clarke pointed to a spot on the floor, and Deen and Attis put down the heavy wooden table they had been moving. She nodded with satisfaction, “I think that’s it. Muchof.”_

_The guards bowed to her, and turned to Lexa for further instruction. She spoke to them softly, her lips curving in a small smirk when she caught Clarke watching them conspicuously. The two guards exited the room, and Lexa raised an eyebrow at Clarke._

_Clarke rolled her eyes, but didn't press for information. She trusted that if it were something important, Lexa would bring her into the know. Clarke paused mid-step: she trusted Lexa._

_"I just think it would be wise if you had proper training, at least in hand to hand combat,” Lexa continued their conversation. “At the very least.”_

_Clarke’s annoyance rose once more, and she quickly dismissed her newfound discovery of trust, “You think I’m weak.”_

_“I train,” she replied easily. “Do you think me weak, Clarke?”_

_Clarke opened her mouth to snap out a reply that had been ready on the tip of her tongue before Lexa even spoke, but quickly closed it. She cleared her throat, “I didn’t know you still trained.”_

_“Of course I train, Clarke. The moment you stop training and practicing is the moment you stop improving. There’s always more to learn, and there is always room to grow.”_

_Clarke’s shoulders sagged, realizing that Lexa was right._

_“There’s nothing wrong with obtaining help to better oneself. In fact, it is a thing to be lauded. Training takes discipline and effort, both of which are commendable qualities.”_

_Clarke nodded, her pride properly soothed by Lexa’s words._

_“So, will you agree to be trained?” Lexa asked, her eyes soft and inviting as she walked around the table and towards her. “Beja?”_

_“Fine,” she sighed. “But only in private.”_

_“I can work that out,” Lexa nodded quickly, calling out, “Come in,” at the knock on the door._

_“This is my room.”_

_“This is my tower,” she replied in jest before offering a teasing smile, “I knew who it was.”_

_“So you’re a psychic now too, huh?” Clarke found herself smiling back as Georg entered the room carrying a rather large wooden rectangle. He paused on the other side of the table, and Lexa motioned for Clarke to approach him. “What is this?”_

_“Think of it as a…hospitality gift,” she explained._

_“I don’t think that’s an actual thing.”_

_"Well, it is now. Open it,” she nodded towards the box._

_Clarke carefully slid off the lid, revealing the stack of parchment and assortment of charcoals of varied sizes and cuts that lay inside, “Lexa…”_

_“Is it to your liking?” Lexa asked._

_Clarke nodded, swallowing back the tears she felt burning behind her eyes. “Y-yes,” she cleared her throat. “Thank you…muchof.”_

_Lexa smiled proudly._

_Clarke's own smile grew in reply._

_Georg shifted uncomfortably as the two leaders held each other’s gaze in silence._

Clarke landed another punch then another, the red of Bellamy’s blood only serving to anger her further. “She saved you,” her voice cracked as she swung. “Over and over and over again. And you ruined it!”

A rifle fired, and Clarke ignored it as the bullet whizzed harmlessly past her ear.

“Hey, that’s Clarke!” Monty reminded.

Clarke couldn’t hear him, though. She couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in her ears as her left fist raised.

“She’s one of them,” the guard replied, firing again.

The bullet ripping through Clarke’s right arm knocked her off of Bellamy. She caught herself with her left arm and looked up to find Monty tackling the guard. Hope.

She glanced over to Bellamy who lay motionless in the dirt, his eyes closed, and his face unrecognizable under all of the blood, but his chest rising and falling steadily. Clarke’s own chest was heaving, and she looked down at her arm to see her jacket and shirt torn where the bullet had grazed flesh and torn muscle.

“Clarke!”

It was bleeding steadily, and would probably need a stitch or two, but it was nothing to truly worry about, she didn’t think. She could barely even feel it, really.

“Clarke!”

Clarke looked up slowly at the sound of her name.

“You have to go!” Monty called down to her. “Now!”

Clarke looked around. The three Grounders’ bodies turned corpses remained in the spot in which they had been murdered. Bellamy was sprawled, unconscious beside her, placed in that condition by her own bare hands that were once again stained red. The sound of drums reached her ears, and a searing pain ripped across her arm. “Fuck,” she grimaced, gripping her arm to her side. “Fuck. Monty, go find…” She started to say Raven and Octavia as she shakily made her way to her feet, but caught herself. Nobody knew Octavia was still in the camp, and nobody knew that Raven was helping them. “Go find Finn’s family,” she looked at him pointedly. “Go find Finn’s family. Do you understand?”

He nodded eagerly, gathering up his things. Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s pistol and slipped it through the back of her belt before shouldering the rifle’s strap over her left shoulder. She took a deep breath and clutched her right arm tightly to her body as she set off at a run back towards the tree line.

“Octavia,” she called into small headset she dug out of her pocket.

“Clarke, what’s going on?” a voice clenched with pain answered.

“Raven?” she greeted in shock.

“People are panicking.”

Clarke shook her head, now was not the time for overdue reunions, “Things went bad. Bellamy and one of the guards killed my escort, now the Grounders are getting ready to attack. I need you to gather up the innocents, and take them somewhere safe so they don’t get caught up in this.”

“Nobody’s innocent,” came Octavia’s hollowed voice. “These people voted for Pike. They supported him. They cheered him on.”

“There are always innocents,” Clarke replied. “You have children in there, O. Come on, I need you.”

“Where are we supposed to bring them once we gather them up?” Raven asked.

Clarke slowed as she neared the tree line, several Grounders rushing towards her to guide her safely into the forest. She grimaced at the throbbing in her arm. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? We need a plan, Clarke!” Octavia pointed out

“And I need you to come up with it yourselves, okay? You guys know the camp better than I do, and I…” Clarke took a steadying breath at the emotions rising in her throat. “I can’t go back to doing things alone, okay? I need help. I can’t...I need you guys to really step up, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Raven answered. “Of course.”

“We’ve got you covered, Clarke, don’t worry,” Octavia agreed, her voice coming through stronger.

Clarke entered the forest and was immediately met with a healer scrutinizing the wound on her arm.

"My mom…” Clarke swallowed, knowing she was being selfish, knowing there were plenty of innocent lives worth saving in there, and that it was wrong for her to place her own family as priority, but her mother was the last tendril of tissue holding her shattered heart together, and she didn’t want to know what it would feel like if she lost that too. “Please, get my mom to safety. She’s a doctor, she can help…”

“Raven just took off,” Octavia replied as the healer helped Clarke out of her jacket. “I don’t think I ever saw her move so fast…even when she had two good legs.”

“O…”

“You can count on us, Clarke,” came the reply.

“I sent Monty you guys’ way.”

“Clarke, he—“

“I trust him…mostly.”

Octavia sighed through the radio, “Got it.”

“I don’t think fire will do it,” the healer informed, his English stilted. Clarke realized that he must have been a simple village healer, not a warrior. The majority of Grounders around her were probably non-warrior volunteers from the nearby villages. Since the massacre of the volunteer army, the number of actual soldiers in the nearby Trikru territory would have been depleted to near nothingness. Because of her people. “It needs to be tied.”

“ _Do it quickly, please_ ,” Clarke replied in Trigedasleng, earning an approving look as he unrolled his kit, the sound of war drums reverberating deep within her as more Grounder troops joined them in the woods. “ _We have battle to win_.”

 

_________

 

The Grounders were brilliant and efficient strategists, and Clarke realized she was not the least bit surprised. She met with Indra and several leaders of the collective Trikru army serving under her in her tent, and they studied the map of Arkadia she had sketched up with the help of a rough blueprint Monty had managed to get his hands on and describe over the radio to her. Ideas were brought up and countered and words became heated and a couple pairs of untrusting eyes continued to bore their way into the side of Clarke’s skull, but the battle plan they eventually forged was calculated and decisive and that it would result in victory was never in doubt.

It started with arrows. Arrows drenched in a greenish yellow sap, shot from long bows and decorating the walls of Arkadia and the ground before it, well beneath the guards who lined the tops of the barrier with smug grins. The first round of arrows was followed by a second, these blazing with fire, streaking the afternoon sky with grey smoke that turned the same yellow tint of the sap as they collided with the wall and the fire connected with the original arrows. Cautious warnings followed by the guards’ pain-filled cries filled the air and signaled the commencement of the next part of their plan.

Grounder warriors, some of the few remaining of the nearby villages after the massacre, approached the wall, cloth masks drenched in a mixture of honey oil and the pollen from a particular orange flower that was known to diffuse the effects of the poisonous smoke were tied tightly over their mouths and noses. It did not take them long to scale the walls and take over the guard towers. The gates opened, Raven having overridden the security system, and the rest of the army followed, spilling into the enclosure, circling their way around its edges, and working towards the center.

The pistol Clarke had stolen from Bellamy was gripped surely in her left hand, Lexa’s dagger openly hanging on her right hip as she walked through the smoke, the poison stinging her eyes but causing no further damage thanks to the mask around the lower half of her face. She could hear gunfire coming from both sides as she passed through the open gate with Deen and Silo flanking her, and she thought back to the automatic rifle she dismantled back in her tent, hiding the clip from curious hands, briefly wondering if she made the wrong choice in not taking it.

_“Tiring yourself over questions already asked and answered is a waste of energy.”_

Clarke shook the doubt from her mind. She pushed through the yellow smoke that set the air hazy, yells of aggression and pain and fear filling her ears and pausing her as she saw a Grounder fall to her knees, a bullet ripping right through her chest, brunette hair covering her face as she landed in the dirt. It took every ounce of strength Clarke had not to run to the warrior and offer medical aid.

She led a group of Grounders around the edge of the camp towards the back where the prison lay. Raven’s strained voice was in her ear on the radio, having hacked into the cameras and offering as much guidance as she could against any approaching attackers. Monty was with her, helping, not because Raven couldn’t handle it all on her own, but because Octavia had insisted that she did not believe Monty would continue to side with them if he encountered his mother in person.

They reached the door that had been noted on her map, and after a series of knocks, it was opened by a relieved looking Miller.

“Right on time,” he greeted with a heavy smile. “I think some—“

“Guards coming your way from the left, Clarke,” Raven informed in her ear.

“—trouble is headed our way.”

“No more than a minute out.”

“How many on duty?” Clarke asked.

“Two others beside me,” Miller replied as they made their way towards the cells. “I didn’t want to start something with them and draw the attention of the others before you got here. Pike has us wearing these monitored bracelets.”

“Good call,” Clarke nodded, causing him to stand taller. “What are we looking at, Raven?”

“Two prison guards leaning against the same wall as you, right where it meets the cell. Looks like they’re trying to stay in the blindspot of anyone rounding the corner. About ten…twelve more headed your way down the hall, all armed.”

Clarke could hear their boots as they neared.

“We will hold the hall, Wabgeda” a warrior stepped forward, and Clarke was struck by the thought that she didn’t even know his name. “You get our people to safety,” his declaration came out as more of a question, and Clarke nodded as he and five other Grounders raised their weapons.

_Death, death, death._

“Help me take down the guards, then help them,” Clarke instructed, and Miller nodded. Deen’s voice rose, instructing the prisoners in Trigedasleng to get against the left wall of the cell. Clarke counted to three, and she and Miller rounded the corner and opened fire against the guards just as gun shots went off behind them. One guard immediately fell into a lifeless heap while the other crumpled to the floor, clinging to an arm that was torn to shreds at the elbow.

“Go,” Clarke took Miller’s access card and shoved him back towards the struggling warriors. She rushed to the key entry as Deen gave out instructions to the frightened Grounders while Silo tugged at the gate impatiently, heaving a sigh when the locking mechanism released, and the door opened at his touch.

“What’s the plan, Clarke?” Kane asked without hesitation.

She pushed her pistol in his hand and pointed behind her, “Go clear a path.”

“Clarke—“

“If you can’t—“

“Clarke!” Miller’s voice was a mixture of warning and worry.

She turned to find Miller and two Grounders being forced around the corner under gunfire, “Fuck,” she reached back for the gun, but Kane’s grip closed on it.

“I can do it,” he nodded solemnly, quickly moving past her, gun raised.

“ _Get down_ ,” she instructed, helping Nyko lower a particularly weak looking grounder as Deen handed Lincoln an extra blade and the two joined Silo at the door of the cell.

“Six left, Clarke,” came Raven’s voice. “If you can knock them out quickly, you have a bit of a window.”

Clarke stood, and Nyko started to follow, but she shook her head, “We can’t risk any more healers.”

“I—“

“ _Stay with them_ ,” she cut him off, the gun firing lessening as the two groups met head on, Miller using the butt of his gun to strike a guard in the head while Lincoln left a deep gash through his thigh. Clangs of metal and grunts of forced valor filled the air, and Clarke drew her dagger as the nameless Grounder was shot at point blank.

The guard, tall but lanky approached the gate, and Silo stepped forward as Deen turned towards a second guard headed their way. The guard tried to get a shot off, his gun pointed over Silo’s shoulder and aiming at Clarke, but Silo knocked the gun aside. It was quickly brought back up, striking him in the neck, stunning him just long enough for the guard to press it against his throat and shove him against the wall. Silo raised his sword, drawing the guard’s eye, and Clarke reached around him from behind, drawing her dagger quickly and cleanly across his throat.

The guard gargled up a gasp and fell to his knees, his hands reaching up to his neck, hopelessly trying to stop the flow of blood. Clarke swallowed down whatever it was she felt rising up within her.

“All clear,” came Kane’s voice as Raven’s told her as much over the radio.

"Gillmer was one of Pike’s crew,” Sinclair noted, placing a careful pat to Clarke’s shoulder as she stared down at the body.

 _Of course he has a name_ , she thought to herself before addressing the others, “Kane, you, Sinclair, and Nyko take these people to Octavia. She has a group of people hidden in the escape that you smuggled us in and out of. My mom is in there with medicine and supplies,” Clarke instructed. She turned to Lincoln and Miller to find Miller holding pressure to his side, blood dripping from beneath his jacket.

“Just a graze,” he gave a grimacing smile.

“Raven shut down the security system in that wing, but your bracelet…can you remove it?”

“Not without the key. I’m fine, though, Clarke.”

“Can you fight?” she asked as she unloaded the fallen guards of their weapons and passed them to Sinclair and Kane.

He nodded after a moment of hesitation.

“Can you hold a gun?” she asked while Lincoln closed the eyes of a dead Grounder.

At that, he nodded surely.

“Reload and go to the cafeteria. All of Jaha’s little cult is in there for a meeting or a mass or whatever. Harper locked them in to keep them out of the way and rewired the doors so they only open from the outside. Go give her back up.”

He nodded dutifully, and she accepted the pistol Kane handed back to her with a fresh clip.

“You're coming with us, right?”

Clarke shook her head.

“Clarke—“

“Tell my mom that you saw me and that I’m okay?”

Kane nodded, and Clarke made her way down the hall, stepping over dead bodies of Arkers Grounders alike as her guards and Lincoln followed on her heel. She paused at the Grounder that had volunteered to hold the hall.

“What’s his name?” she asked softly.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lincoln shook his head. “I didn’t know him.”

 

_______

 

Once they had secured as many innocent as they were able and had brought the sick to safety, the battle was quickly won. The Arkers’ guns were able to take out far more Grounders than they ever would have been able to in a fair fight, but the Grounders overwhelmed them with numbers and precision. The warriors pushed forward, disarming the guards and easily overpowering them once it came down to hand to hand combat. Some guards died fighting, while the majority, including Pike, raised their hands in surrender when they recognized the face of death staring down at them.

When Clarke finally reached Pike at the end of it all, he was on his knees, his hands behind his head, his nose broken and his body riddled with cuts and slashes. Indra had been the first to find him, and her body shook with the effort it took not to kill him right then and there as she stood over him with her sword.

Clarke couldn’t help the sneer that crossed her lips as her eyes flitted over him before looking to Indra.

“I am not the only one who deserves justice,” Indra explained, her voice calm though her eyes were anything but.

“Your people know nothing of justice,” Pike replied, earning a whack from the butt of Indra’s sword.

“That seemed pretty justified,” Clarke informed before turning back to Indra. “The camp is secure. The guards and resistors are locked up. I have a group working on securing the guns. A couple of my people I trust are handling them while your warriors escort them. It seemed the safest way to go.”

Indra nodded, “Casualties?”

Clarke nodded, “Many, but we won’t know concrete numbers until later. The bodies are being sorted now. I am going to head to medical to help out.”

Indra nodded again, and Clarke turned to the guards at her side, “Can you two escort Pike to the Grounder camp? He is to be held separately from the other treasoners.”

“Treasoners?” he huffed incredulously. “I was elected.”

Clarke stepped towards him, her voice low, “You broke the coalition. You defied Heda’s orders and attacked her people. That is treason.”

“I—“ he began, but was cut off as Silo yanked him to his feet aggressively.

Clarke turned to Deen, but he remained firmly by her side, “Deen?”

“I have my orders.”

“I know, I just gave them.”

“I have my orders from Heda.”

“Lexa?” she froze.

“She assigned him as your personal guard?” Indra asked, an eyebrow raised slightly.

“Yes, but—“

“Then he isn’t going to leave you vulnerable in a hostile environment.”

“I am not vulnerable.”

Deen remained by her side, sword in hand.

“Alright, fine, we can discuss this later,” she sighed tiredly, motioning for him to follow as she had towards the medical bay. “At least put your sword away for now? The people we are going see will be in no shape for a fight.”

 

_______

 

When Clarke finally exited the medical bay several hours later with a tired sigh--three days of no sleep, plannng and executing a battle, and spending multiple hours with her hands drenched in blood as she saved and called lives had rendered her beyond exhausted--and with Deen right beside her, it was to find Octavia approaching with Raven a step behind. Clarke took in the way Raven walked, her leg dragging even more than when she had left, her teeth set every time she placed weight on her hip. Clarke took in a steadying breath as Octavia stopped and Raven continued to advance. She knew what was coming. She knew she and Raven had had an odd relationship, but that the mechanic considered her one of her only friends. And Clarke had left her behind when she was hurt. Again.

Deen gripped his sword, but Clarke halted him with a hand.

“Raven—“

“You left me,” she came to a pause right in front of her.

Clarke nodded.

“You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Clarke nodded again, struggling against the tears, willing to accept the hurt filled words that would be coming her way. She wondered if Raven would punch her again like she had back in TonDC. Clarke supposed she would deserve that. She barely flinched when Raven raised a hand. When she found herself suddenly being pulled into an embrace, instead though—Raven’s leg brace knocking into her knee roughly at their proximity—Clarke could feel the tears escaping from the corners of her eyes.

“I get it,” Raven gave her a squeeze before pulling back enough to look at her. “The need to escape. I get it.”

“Ra—“

“Don’t make this some big thing, Griffin,” she rolled her eyes as she stepped away, sniffing back her own tears.

Clarke nodded, her gaze falling down to the brace, wondering if she should ask.

“I’ll survive,” Raven shrugged. “I always do.”

“Clarke, I’m sorry about Lexa,” Octavia stepping forward, her eyes unbearably soft. “I could tell you seemed to care about her.”

Clarke tensed, “You could tell?”

Octavia nodded.

“You could tell I cared about her, yet you guilt tripped me into leaving her behind in order to do what? What exactly was it you wanted me to do here that couldn’t have been handled by someone else?”

Octavia’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What? You were so adamant about me coming here, Octavia. You purposefully guilted me until I had no choice but to come or I wouldn’t be able to live with myself with your words spinning around in my head if I didn’t. And for what? I couldn’t actually go into Arkadia. Pike would have had me arrested on the spot. What world saving scheme was it that everyone expected me to come up with this time?”

“I just thought you should be with your people,” she frowned.

“For what?” Clarke’s voice rose slightly. “For what purpose? I couldn’t actually be with them, and even if I could, I surely did not want to be associated with what they were doing.”

“But you handled it,” Raven pointed out. “Everything is handled.”

“Everything was already handled,” Clarke bit out. “The barricade was put in place. We had all the time in the world. A battle was not needed. Lives did not have to be lost this way. If I hadn’t…” She took a steadying breath, feeling the control over her words and anger slipping away. “If I hadn’t gone to say goodbye, Lexa would not have been in her room. She would not have been crowded. She would have had a chance.”

“Clarke—“ Octavia began.

“And I just can’t figure out why. Why was it so important for me to be here? I mean, I know I can guilt myself far worse than anybody else, but I can’t figure out why you felt the need to, Octavia. What was the point of it all? Was there even a point? Were you taking out your own confused loyalties on me? Were you jealous that I had found a place in Grounder society when that’s all you’ve been after since we landed? I bet that’s it, isn’t it?” Clarke smirked as Octavia’s eyes darkened. “I was living in the capital. They considered me a legend. I was welcomed while you remained the ‘Skai Girl’ to them. I’m sure you hated that. I’m sure you couldn’t stand me walking around with my own personal guard, living in the Commander’s tower, having Grounders listening to what I say. You couldn’t take it, and since you couldn’t have that, you guilted me into leaving it behind as well.”

“I get that you’re going through something right now,” Octavia stepped towards her menacingly. “But I would watch myself if I was you.”

Deen stepped closer to Clarke, and Octavia paused.

 _Going through something_ , Clarke snorted a short laugh. If only that what this was. If only the past eighteen months of her life was a simple phase that wouldn’t leave her scarred and scattered for the rest of life, however short that may be.

“I fail to see what’s so funny about any of this.”

“You fail to see anything but what’s directly in front of you,” Clarke replied, unable to stop the words coming from her mouth now that she had finally started to vent her frustrations. “Which is probably the main reason why you forced me to come.”

“Why are you so stuck on this? Are you…are you blaming me for Lexa’s death?” she asked incredulously. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“I am blaming all of us,” Clarke snapped. “We _all_ did this. Everything that is going on now is because of us, because we were too greedy, too selfish, too blind to see…”

Clarke’s right hand clenched into a fist, and her left gripped the dagger handle situated at her waist, “All she wanted was peace. It was all she ever wanted. It was all she strived for. She wanted her people safe and looked after, and she extended that courtesy to us, as well. And what did we do? We threw it back in her face without so much as a second glance. Every step of the way, she offered us peace, and every step of the way we stomped on it, and yet, she continued to try. This, all of this, is all of our faults. We did this.”

“Clarke—“

“Lexa didn’t deserve this. She deserved so much more than this. She deserved to see her dreams of a safe and peaceful existence come true. She deserved happiness and peace, and after everything she accomplished, the least she deserved was respect, and we couldn’t even offer her that. She was so much better than any of us, and because of us, even her own people began to doubt her, and still, she fought for us. She put her life on the line for us. She—“ Clarke’s voice cracked, and she closed her eyes against the emotions burning behind them. “She deserved better, and we…we deserve exactly what we are going to get with Ontari as the new Commander.”

“Clarke, wait,” Octavia reached out for her as Clarke brushed past, but Deen pushed her hand away. She glared at him before looking at Clarke pointedly.

Clarke shrugged at her indignity, “He gets to fulfill his promise to Lexa. Not all of us are that lucky. After all, I promised her I’d return to Polis.”

Octavia and Raven’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, I promised Lexa that I after I had this mess settled, I would return to Polis. To her. Because that’s my home now. Except I can’t. I can’t return to Polis. Skaikru made sure of that. If I return to Polis now, I will be killed immediately. Well, maybe not immediately. Maybe Ontari will torture me first. She was raised by Nia, after all. Either way, I can't return there like I promised I would. So…forgive me for allowing Deen to fulfill his promise to Lexa as it helps me to not feel so bad about breaking my own.”

“Where are you going?” Raven asked as Clarke turned to leave. “Your room is back this way.”

“That’s not my room,” she shook her head. “This isn’t my home. This place feels like metal coffin, and if I spend any more time in here today, I think I may just snap completely. So, I’m going back to camp to congratulate the Grounders on a well-earned victory and to try and come up with another way to save everyone yet again.”

 

_________

 

The moon hung heavy in the sky, a hazy ring around it promising rain the next day, as Clarke sat around the fire, Deen and Silo on either side of her, with Murphy across from her next to Emori, and a group of grounders filling in the circle. It was an odd evening. Clarke had thought there would be more celebration of the fact that they had finally defeated the Skaikru for good, and while there were drums and drinks and boasting, there was a rather subdued quality to it all, a heaviness in the eyes and on the shoulders of the Trikru army.

Word had spread that Lexa kom Trikru was no longer Commander. And since no Commander had ever been dethroned without dying, everyone assumed the worse. It was an assumption that Indra and Clarke and her guards nodded along to as they had decided it was for the best. If everyone believed she were dead, then they would not go looking for her. If everyone believed she were dead, then she might stand a chance.

Clarke swallowed hard as she looked down at her half empty cup in her hand. The drink provided a warmth that did not spread farther than her throat as she thought about the Grounder girl that had been shot right in front of her. The way her body collapsed and brown hair spilled over her shoulders. The way Lexa had laid lifeless before her on the floor of her room, brown hair swept over her shoulder. The way the hair had clung to her neck, dark and sticky. The way it had felt running through her fingers moments before as Clarke clung to her breathlessly.

They let the Grounders assume Lexa was dead, and Clarke wondered how long before she would assume the same as well. There was a part of her that already did, but it was a part she buried as she took a slow drink. It was a thought that she could not accept. A notion that set her whole body shaking, forcing out every last ounce of hope she had left within her, and she couldn’t…she needed hope. It was all she had keeping her going. It was the only thing that kept all of the death surrounding her just far enough away so that she could breathe.

"Wanheda, do you need more wood on the fire?” Silo asked.

Clarke shook her head and set her jaw, willing her body motionless. “ _No. Thank you_ ,” she turned to him with a slight nod.

He flexed his fingers around his cup, catching her eye.

“Did someone look at your injury?”

He shifted uncomfortably, “It is not a battle wound.”

“Then…” Clarke’s breath caught in her throat, remembering the way Silo held Lexa’s shoulder firmly against the floor, and remembering the way Lexa had turned her head just enough to sink her teeth into his hand. She nodded, swallowing heavily before standing and storming towards her tent, ignoring the way the two guards followed and stationed themselves outside. She downed the rest of her drink and refilled her cup from the flask a Grounder had shoved into her hands earlier and insisted she keep. She finally found sleep that night with heavy limbs and murky vision and one word playing over and over again in her mind.

_South._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began this fic as an example of one of the ways the writers could have taken this season while keeping their inane AI plot and allowing for ADC's absence while she filmed Fear, both without killing Lexa off. So, that is why Lexa has been missing for a bit. I have tried to balance out her absence with flashbacks, though, since I know one of the reasons many people read Clexa fics is because they miss her--I do too. So, yeah, Lexa is m.i.a., but that will soon change. Starting next chapter, time is going to start moving faster as the two communities try to work together and establish peace within themselves and against outside forces. Of course, now that the battle is over, and her people are somewhat subdued, Clarke's mind is going to be focused on finding Lexa. You can all thank Bellamy for making that job more difficult when he killed Georg.


	4. We Make Our Own Rules, Our Own Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been a while. I've been a tad busy with floods and school and life, and honestly, this chapter whooped my ass. It isn't what I wanted, at all, but I realized I was trying to push the plot forward without tying the loose ends. So, I was like, okay, I can do a brief run through of the impact of the battle. The brief run through turned into about 35 pages. I thought about deleting it all, and saying screw it, because the first half is rather dull and the second half is rather dark, I find, but, I don't know. We gave JRot shit for not following through with proper endings for certain storylines, so I guess it would be hypocritical of me to not follow through with certain logical conclusions. So, yeah. Here's part 1 of those 35 pages.

We Make Our Own Rules, Our Own Room

 

 

Clarke looked around the room, every surface boasting a dull metallic tinge, and rolled her head from one side to the other attempting to relieve the tension. She had gladly sat in talks about what conditions and punishments should be placed upon the Skaikru and their aggressors the afternoon prior with Indra and the chosen ambassadors of several of Trikru’s largest villages. Leaders from the Rock Line and Glowing Forest Clans’ armies joined them as their armies were of the first to arrive under Lexa’s call for the barricade—Clarke was mildly surprised at their appearance considering their call to arms had come from a Heda thought to now be dead.

It seemed like a lot of the planning had gone on before she even reached the tent and they were just looking to her for an opinion on the feasibility of their proposed treaty which she offered freely, noting that any heated objections came only from the newcomers, with the Trikru representatives voicing their concerns in a much more subdued, respective manner.

“ _What of the guilty?_ ” Clarke had asked as the meeting drew to a close.

“ _We will determine their individual crimes and aim for proper justice,_ ” Indra replied.

“ _Or is that too harsh for you, Wanheda?_ ” a stocky Rock Line representative sneered.

Clarke opened her mouth to argue, and Deen partially unsheathed his sword as the stocky man stood from his chair, but a Trikru General’s voice broke in.

“ _Wanheda stood with us as we attacked the Skaikru. Where were you when this was happening?_ ”

“ _Not everyone gets speedy armed escorts._ ”

“ _Not everyone has earned them,_ ” Deen replied.

“ _Enough!_ ” Indra effectively silenced the tent, the Rock Line representative’s reply dying on his open lips.

As far as meetings between her and Grounder dignitaries go, it had been one of the smoothest thus far. But when Indra had stopped her from exiting after it came to an end and asked her to join a select few as they gave their terms to the Skaikru, Clarke turned down the offer.

“It isn't an offer,” Indra had replied. “We need someone on the middle ground.”

Clarke had nodded, “Having a mediator is a good idea. Ask Octavia or Lincoln.”

“It needs to be someone respected by both parties. Octavia was nothing more than a Second before she defected, and Lincoln is viewed as a traitor.”

Clarke’s shoulders sagged. Other than helping out in the medical unit which housed both Grounders and Skaikru, she had been avoiding Arkadia and the people within it, entering and exiting through the tunnel in the wall that was no longer as much of a secret as it once was. The Grounders had taken over the camp, warriors stationed in the guard towers and throughout the grounds, but even with the familiarity of having Deen faithfully by her side as he had been since her arrival in Polis weeks ago, she was not ready to see the betrayal in her people’s eyes or hear the accusations in her people’s words.

_Our people._

At least one of Lexa’s dreams had come true. Skaikru and Trikru would be one people. Though, Clarke didn’t think a hostile takeover had exactly been what the wizened leader was hoping for.

“We meet with their Council in the morning,” Indra had said, and Clarke knew it would be the final word on the matter.

When Deen and Silo had escorted her into the meeting room inside the forged walls of the fallen Ark, Clarke had initially been surprised. Indra was seated at the head of the table in the chair that was normally reserved for the Chancellor. The sight unbalanced Clarke, which led to her recognizing the seating choice for what it was: a power move.

Silo remained along the far wall, right next to the door, and Deen stood beside the chair that Indra had pointed out, situated halfway down the table, and so Clarke had been sitting and waiting until the Grounder delegates—the leaders of Trikru’s three biggest villages, and a representative from each the Rock Line and Glowing Forest armies—finally entered.

The Rock Line representative was the same one that had spoken against her in the tent, and Clarke did her best to keep her face emotionless as he sat down across from her, failing as he sent a smirk her way. She wondered if Lexa’s ability to maintain her composure was something that had taken years to master or an inherent trait she possessed from birth. She wondered if she would ever get the chance to ask her.

Clarke swallowed hard, looking down at her hands clenched in her lap. After two nights of decent sleep, helped by a glass of strong wine to slow her thoughts, she was finding it easier not to completely lose herself in her anger and grief. At least, in public. In small doses.

_That was weakness._

“Ignore Inc. He is only where he is because his father is the head of the Rock Line Clan,” the Glowing Forest representative said as she sat to Clarke’s right. She was tall with a smooth face yet deep crinkles at the corners of her eyes that made Clarke wonder as to her age. Skin darker than night wrapped around the imposing muscular tone of her bared arms, and Clarke tucked her own arms closer to her sides. It was hard not to feel inadequate when surrounded by the bodies of trained warriors. Especially now that she did not have Lexa assuring presence, her silent nods reminding her that she belonged, that she was capable.

What Clarke wouldn't give to have Lexa seated across from her now, offering one of her nods to let her know that they were still on the same page, that she was on the right track.

“You would think nepotism would’ve gotten him further along than a rep position by his age,” Clarke replied.

She broke into a pearly grin that offset her hardened exterior, and she lowered her voice, “Which shows just how useless he is.”

Clarke nodded, appreciating her sense of humor, but unable to muster up a smile, and the Glowing Forest Representative turned to greet the Trikru man sitting beside her.

\--

The scrape of the metal door had Clarke straightening in her seat, her jaw set as she turned to the Council members entering the room, led by Kane with her mother a half step behind, followed by five other members. Their eyes landed on Indra who blinked calmly, unfazed by their attention as they took in her position at the head of the table, though Clarke could see the strain in her neck, and she knew her hand that was hidden beneath the table was actually gripping the hilt of her sword.

Kane was the first to recover from the surprise, doing so with as much grace as the circumstances allowed. As he walked over to greet Indra with a firm arm grasp, Clarke’s eyes stayed on the three Council members muttering heatedly to each other just inside the doorway.

“Clarke,” Abby greeted with a surprised smile, sitting to her left. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Clarke bristled.

“I didn’t…I only meant because you did not bring it up when you were helping out in the medical bay,” she explained. “I didn’t mean to imply that you haven’t earned a spot here.”

Clarke wanted to point out that they had not talked about anything other than the treatment of her patients in the medical bay and even then, the words had not been easily forthcoming. She was afraid. She was afraid of Abby asking her the one question that she could not handle, not coming from the lips of her mother.

_Are you okay?_

At the same time, it was the one thing she craved to hear, despite knowing that it would leave her crumpled in her mother’s embrace, or, perhaps, because of it. There were times when she wanted that embrace, that release, but she knew it would be little more than an indulgence she did not have the time nor the energy for. It wasn’t as if her she could truly talk to her mother about Lexa anyway. Her mother had never even tried to hide her disdain for the leader of the 12 Clans.

“I hadn’t planned on being here,” Clarke replied instead. “But Indra thought it was for the best.”

Abby’s brows furrowed, “Are you a Gr…you listen to Indra now?”

“She is someone I respect.”

As the rest of the council sat down, Clarke took a steadying breath, feeling the anticipation in the air, both groups certain that this meeting would end in disaster. And while it did not end in bloodshed, that brief moment before Indra opened her mouth to speak was the calmest of the entire treaty talk.

Indra laid out the terms in a straightforward manner, each and every one bringing an objection from at least one Council member’s lips.

 

\--

 

The land Arkadia rested on belonged to Trikru.

“This is our land.”

"This was never your land."

 

\--

 

Any Skaikru election and candidates had to be approved by a council made up of members of the three surrounding clans.

“Why should you get a say in our leader?”

“Because of what happened when you were left to decide for yourselves.”

 

\--

 

Two hours into the discussion, and Clarke didn’t even wince when a Council member, Eric, slammed his fist on the table and declared that this was insane.

“Sit down, Eric,” Kane’s voice was calm, but Clarke could see the heaviness weighing on his shoulders. With the added grey in his beard and the creases on his forehead, he seemed to have aged 10 years since she saw him back in Polis, full of smiles and hope.

“How are we supposed to provide for our people if we cannot expand our walls?” Eric demanded.

“You will be allotted farm land outside of your walls,” Indra replied, causing the majority of the Council members to look at her in shock. The sound of the door opening on the far wall, going mostly unnoticed by those at the table. “Just as you would have been if you had merely sent word to Heda of your troubles before you went and slaughtered your allies.”

“Your Commander would have never—“

"You have no idea what the Commander would or wouldn’t have done,” Clarke spoke up for the first time since the meeting began, her voice coming out low, sounding dangerous to her own ears.

"You--"

Clarke did not get to hear exactly what it was Eric thought her to be because Silo was suddenly by her side, whispering in her ear, and causing the floor to feel as if it were sliding out from under her.

“If you all will excuse me for a moment,” Clarke nodded, maintaining her composure as best she could as she stood and slowly walked out of the meeting room. She followed the hallway by instinct alone, her eyes blurring, and her pace picking up at the acrid taste rising in her throat. She pushed the outside door open with what little strength she could muster and made it two steps into the grass before she was emptying what little contents she had in her stomach, onto the green ground.

“ _What happened?_ ” Her voice strained as she looked up through tired lashes, the tightening in her chest making it hard to draw a full breath. She felt as if she were suffocating. Slowly.

Deen looked to the messenger that had been sent from Polis by one of Lexa’s remaining loyal guards.

" _The guards assigned to the Conclave were involved in the assassination plot_ ,” the woman explained, her own eyes tired after having made the ride from Polis to Arkadia without pause.

“ _So they just stood by and let Ontari do it?_ ” Clarke asked in disbelief.

The messenger nodded.

“ _It is as you said, Wanheda,_ ” Deen frowned. “ _Their goal was to put the Ice Queen’s Nightblood into power_.”

“ _How? How did it happen?_ ”

“ _She killed them in their sleep_ ,” the messenger informed after a hard swallow. “ _Walked into their rooms. Cut off their heads._ ”

“ _All of them?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

Clarke stumbled back, and Deen guided her to the wall which she leaned against heavily, “ _They were just kids_.”

“ _They were not. They were Commanders in training. Most would have died in the Conclave, anyway_.”

“At least they would have been given a chance!”

The messenger bowed her head, “I am sorry, Wanheda.”

The door opened and Silo walked out, meeting Clarke’s eye wearily. Informing her of the Nightbloods’ deaths had been the first time they had traded words since the bonfire.

“Did you inform Indra?”

“Yes, Wanheda. She said that the meeting needs to be pushed through.”

Clarke nodded, knowing that the hardened warrior was right. They were out of time to save her people. With Ontari assuming power, the only chance Arakadia had was to unite with Trikru and to do it immediately. So, she took a swig from the horn of water Deen offered, spitting the bitter taste out of her mouth and wiping her chin along the sleeve of her jacket before straightening herself and marching back into the meeting.

Inc rolled his eyes as she slid back into her seat, and her mother looked at her in concern, opening her mouth to question, but Clarke spoke up before she could get the words out, “Where were we?”

Indra nodded in satisfaction and pushed on to the issue of guards.

“We have our own guards.”

“They are free to patrol the grounds inside the walls. I will assign my people to be on top of the wall.”

 

\--

 

No Skaikru is allowed to go into Grounder territory without an escort from one of the clans.

“So, we’re basically imprisoned inside our own walls?”

“Yes.”

 

\--

 

The final point of the meeting neared, and Clarke held her breath, watching as Indra sat up even straighter in her chair, steeling her gaze as it passed along the faces of the Skaikru Council.

“The Skaikru will no longer have access to their guns.”

The left side of the table erupted in a cacophony of chairs being forced back and voices being raised. Deen took a step to the left, using his body as a shield between Clarke and the Council, and several of the Grounder guards stationed against the wall of the room stepped closer.

“This point is not up for negotiation,” Indra shook her head. “The…” She looked to Clarke for the term.

“The automatic rifles will be disassembled and used for parts,” Clarke explained. “The hand guns will remain locked away from Arkadian hands.”

Kane raised his hands to settle the voice of the Council, and looked across the table, “Indra, I understand why you think this is necessary, but we need our weapons. We need to be able to defend ourselves and to hunt.”

“Yes,” Indra agreed. “I will supply some of my most skillful craftsmen and hunters to teach those Skaikru who are willing to learn how to make proper weapons and how to hunt with them.”

“This isn’t fair. Your people have been training with these weapons for years. We are no match for that. We need our guns,” Eric pointed out.

“Why do you need to be a match for that?” The Glowing Forest ambassador beside Clarke asked. “Unless you were planning to attack us again…”

“I am more worried about your kind attacking us.”

“Eric…” Kane cautioned.

“You are severely outnumbered,” Clarke pointed out. “The army you faced was just one section of an army belonging to one clan. And still, they defeated you easily. And this was while you had guns. All the guns did was add unnecessary deaths and prolong the inevitable by maybe an hour.”

“Clarke, you cannot be in agreement with this,” another Council member shook her head.

“Wanheda voluntarily handed over her gun after the battle,” Indra informed. “It is locked away with the rest.”

“How can you trust these people? All they’ve done is attack us since we landed.”

Clarke sighed, “We landed on their land. We burnt their village. We shot up peace talks, blew up a bridge, slayed innocents. They’ve only defended themselves and their territory. We expect them to simply bow to our will and get away with slaughtering them when they resist. How can _they_ trust _us_? And yet, they did. Time and time again. And here they are, giving us another chance to exist in peace.”

“This is not peace,” Eric shook his head. “I don’t want their _chance_.”

Clarke's eyes locked with his, and her words came out slowly, "I think you are severely misunderstanding the situation. You do not have a choice.”

“We—“

“Have been conquered. The Trikru have defeated you. They have reclaimed their land. They are free to enact whatever laws and restrictions as they see fit, and the fact that they have not simply killed you all is something you should be showing a bit more gratitude towards because believe me, that option was very much on the table.”

"You're one of them!" He accused.

“You say that as if it is an insult.”

“They’re savages!”

_We are what we are._

“Then I share that name with pride,” Clarke sneered.

“Kane,” Indra gave him a firm look.

He nodded and turned to Eric, speaking softly, and causing Eric to erupt in a stream of curses, prompting two guards to escort him handily out of the room. “I will find a more suitable replacement for him on the Council,” Kane said before allowing his eyes to move across the Grounders in the room. “I am sorry for any offense he may have caused. It has been a long few days.”

Indra nodded in agreement, “We have covered everything we needed to. We can hammer out the finer details another time. A party will arrive early tomorrow morning to escort you and the prisoners to our camp where they will be sentenced. If there are any that you feel need to speak for the accused, they are welcome to come,” she informed tersely.

Clarke looked up in surprise. It had been something she had suggested, having a trial of sorts like the one she had seen for the Ice Queen in Polis, feeling that there would not be quite as much outcry against the verdict if there were at least a few Arkadians there to witness and take part in the process. Indra had simply blinked in reply to her request, giving no indication until now whether or not she would even consider it.

"We will be ready," Kane replied.

After a few final words from Indra, the room slowly cleared, the Council and the Grounders keeping their distance for the most part, and Clarke remained seated, staring at her hands that were clasped on the table, all too aware of the worried look her mother was drilling into the side of her head. Indra dismissed her own guards until it was just the three of them along with Kane and Deen remaining behind.

"There's something more," Kane guessed, moving to sit closer and lessen the distance between the two sides.

“I am sure the two of you have heard of about the Commander,” Indra said, looking to Kane and then Abby both of whom nodded in response. “A new Commander has been found. She has taken power by force. She…she is not Lexa kom Trikru. She will not be merciful. It was our intent to join forces with you to try and protect the innocent from her wrath.”

“And she has been named Commander already?”

"Not yet. She has spat on our traditions and order, but there are still things that need to be done before she can ascend.”

“Like what?”

“They need to dispose of the old Commander’s body.”

Clarke’s hand fell to her hip.

“Okay?”

Indra eyed the pair of them carefully before supplying, “They do not have the Commander’s body.”

"Where is it?" Abby asked.

Clarke gripped the dagger hilt tightly, chewing back the spiteful words forming in her mouth in reply to hearing Lexa referred to as nothing more than an ‘it’.

“She is far from the capital. Somewhere safe.”

“She’s alive?” Kane asked in shock.

“Last we heard, yes.”

“But what…what does that mean?”

"We have never had a Commander lose their title without it resulting in death," Indra shook her head. "And we do not know if Lexa will even be able to recover from her injuries.”

“Why doesn’t the capital just burn a random body and say it is hers?” Kane asked.

“That is what will end up happening. Hopefully, the new Commander does not find out about it, at least not until Lexa is healthy, or she will set out to find her and kill her. This has to remain quiet. Nobody can know.”

“What are we to do about this new Commander?”

"You will come to the sentencing tomorrow. You will agree to the judgements passed in front of your people and mine and in front of representatives from Glowing Forest and Rock Line. You will show sorrow for the lost Grounder lives. You will issue a speech denouncing the slaughter your people committed and vowing your allegiance to the Trikru and their allies. The actual clan leaders will be arriving some time tomorrow night. You will meet with the three of us and reaffirm all of these things, answering any questions they may have.”

“And what will this do?” Abby questioned.

“The goal is to get their two clans to back Skaikru as well so that they can bring a solid argument to Ontari, asking her to spare those remaining,” Clarke explained

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I told Wanheda that if the guilty were brought to justice and the Skaikru agreed to our demands, then they would have our support against Ontari,” Indra answered.

“You would go to war for us?” Abby asked in surprise.

“Lexa united the 12 Clans. The only reason we ever found and maintained peace was because of her. Ontari is not a peacekeeper.”

“The coalition will fall,” Kane noted.

“It will not just be us against all of the other clans. It will be all of the clans against each other.”

Kane swallowed, “Perhaps it is best if you send your people over to train ours with your weapons sooner rather than later.”

“Training will begin the day after tomorrow, after the sentencing has been carried out. Any of your people wanting to come train within our actual army will be more than welcomed and provided for.”

"Is it wise to hand out swords and spears immediately following...that?” Abby wondered.

“We do not always have time for what is wise. But, I will make sure to only send those with a level head so as to not make things worse.”

Abby nodded, and Indra stood, moving to clasp arms with Kane, sharing a few light words concerning times for the following day, before she walked around the table. Abby stood and held her arm out much to Clarke and Indra’s surprise. Indra grasped it firmly, and Abby squared her shoulders, “You…I am grateful that it was you. That if we had to fall, it was to you. You are a smart leader Indra…kom Trikru.”

Indra nodded, "Thank you for tending to my warriors."

“My bay is always open to anyone in need.”

With another nod, Indra exited the meeting room, and Clarke’s eyes found the table once more as she felt the weight of her mother’s gaze shift to her.

"Clarke..."

Clarke tensed her jaw.

“What happened?”

“Just some news that I was less prepared for than I thought,” Clarke shrugged, pushing her chair back and standing. “Do you know where Raven is? I promised to visit her.”

“She’s set herself up a makeshift workspace in her room,” Abby sighed. “She is in a lot of pain and doesn’t seem to trust herself around Jaha’s group just yet.”

“What is being done about Jaha?”

“One thing at a time...”

Clarke opened her mouth to point out that they did not have that luxury, but Kane cut in.

“Your mom has taken away the remaining chips. He is unable to add any more people to his ‘City of Life’.”

“Light,” Abby corrected.

“Right. ‘City of Light’. That is going to have to be enough, at least until we get through the next few days.”

Clarke nodded, her face impassive, “Alright. I will see you at the sentencing tomorrow, then.”

“Clarke,” Abby reached out for her as she started to walk away, and Clarke held a hand out to keep Deen at bay. Abby’s eyes widened.

“Lexa’s orders.”

Something flashed in the depths of Abby’s eyes, and it looked for a moment as if she were about to say something, but instead she shook her head to clear her thoughts, before trying, “You can stay here tonight, you know?”

“No,” Clarke answered emotionlessly. “I can’t.”

 

+++++++++++

 

Clarke stared at the key pad on the side of the door frame curiously. Or, at least, she stared at where the keypad had once been, for all that remained was an utter disarray of frayed wires and a smashed computer chip. She raised a hand and knocked on the door, stomping down any hesitance.

“Who is it?”

“I know you hacked the security cams, Raven. You are perfectly capable of seeing it’s me.”

“Perfectly capable of listening in to your secret meetings, too,” the door opened to reveal Raven, leaning on a cane, a swipe of grease painting her forehead, reminding Clarke of an old cartoon movie she had watched growing up on the Ark. It had been one of her favorites, and her dad would tease her asking if he needed to prepare to sacrifice himself to a herd of wildebeests for her.

"Oh, don't look like that. I only half-listened; I have more important things to deal with."

Clarke blinked back the memories and stared at the girl in front of her, “Someone broke your keypad.”

“Yeah, that was me,” Raven waved her in, eyeing the two guards situated behind her. “Now I’m the only one that knows how to get in.”

Silo took up a spot outside the door, but Deen made a move to follow the two girls.

Raven raised an eyebrow at him, then Clarke.

Clarke turned to Deen, "You can wait outside.”

He remained rooted in his spot.

“I don’t think anywhere in Lexa’s orders did she say that you should invade my privacy.”

Deen faltered for a moment, seeming torn by her words.

“Oh, it’s not like I could hurt the girl,” Raven rolled her eyes, sticking out her leg. “All she would have to do is power walk away from me.”

Deen sighed, “I will be right outside.”

Clarke nodded, closing the door behind him.

"Octavia said you cared about Lexa,” Raven said, diving in unhesitatingly as she gingerly sat on a stool at her makeshift work bench, resting her left foot on the low bar running between the table legs, and picked up a metal bracelet that drew Clarke’s eye.

“Is that like the one they gave the delinquents when they sent us down?” Clarke wandered over to the long, metal work station that took up the majority of space in the small bedroom.

Raven nodded, “It was a two-way street, wasn’t it?”

Clarke picked up one of the spare bracelets, turning it over in her hand, remembering a time when they believed that the only thing they had to fight was each other.

“She’s given you personal guards before,” Raven kept on, searching through her toolkit. “And I’m guessing it’s not customary that they stay attached at the hip to you even after the person that gave them the orders is…gone.”

Clarke took a steady breath before nodding once.

“In the way I care about you or in the way I cared about Finn?” Raven broke open the underneath side of the bracelet and scowled.

“So, what are the bracelets for?”

“I know it’s not the way that Finn cared about me because you went the high and mighty route when you found out he was cheating, so I doubt you’d go for the asshole approach,” Raven grumbled as she pressed what looked to be an ink pen into the back of the bracelet and cursed when nothing happened.

“Is something wrong with it?”

“The damn thing is fried,” she tossed the bracelet down agitatedly, the sound of it hitting the metal table echoing around them. “They made all these extras and then forgot about them after the crash, and they were stored in a non-climate controlled room with no windows or anything other than a leaky pipe running across the ceiling. They might as well have kept them in a damn sauna.”

“Will you be able to fix them?”

“Of course I’ll be able to fix them, it’s me we’re talking about. It’ll just take supplies and time, neither of which we have in abundance down here.”

“What do you need them for?”

“Dammit, Clarke,” Raven tossed the voltage tester against table as well and swiveled to her with a heated gaze. “You left. You left, and you didn’t say goodbye. You are one of the few people I’ve ever cared about that is actually still alive, and you fucking left me. For months. After all that we went through. You _left_.”

Clarke bit down on the inside of her lip to distract her brain from forming the tears she could feel stinging her eyes.

“And I get it. I do, so I don’t blame you for it. But that doesn’t mean that it didn’t fucking suck. So, the least you could do is tell me what the hell had you staying in Polis the past few weeks when you could have been here.”

Clarke nodded, her voice coming out small, "Yeah, okay."

“Okay,” Raven took a deep breath before accepting the bracelet Clarke handed to her and popping the back off of that one as well. She shifted on the stool with a grimace.

“I stayed in Polis because I was able to protect everyone better from there and… because of her. I feel like everything I’ve done the past four months has somehow revolved around those two ideas,” Clarke admitted in a whisper of breath. “I care about her. She cares about me. I…like you cared about Finn.”

Raven’s hands remained steadfast as she carefully dismantled the bracelet, offering nothing more than a nod.

“She loves me.”

“She told you?”

“She didn’t have to. I just hope I was as obvious. I should’ve said it, but I didn’t realize…I thought we had time. There was a war erupting around us, and I stupidly thought we had time.”

“The invincibility of love can be a dangerous thing,” Raven replied as she searched through her tools. “It’s how I ended up in a century old tin can, hurtling down to earth at astronomical speeds. And for what? To find out the boy I loved was cheating on me with some blonde princess.”

Clarke cleared her throat.

Raven shrugged, “It’s how I saw you at the time. It’s not like we met under the best of circumstances.”

“True.”

Raven’s fingers rapped against the metal table, before she turned to her, “When?”

“When what?”

“When did you fall for her?”

“Raven…” She shook her head.

“Clarke.”

Clarke sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She wasn’t exactly sure, herself. It all happened so seamlessly, when she wasn’t paying attention. “Starting from the first time we met, I guess?” She answered honestly, remembering how she couldn’t get the stoic leader out of her head.

_You're the one..._

“She was so damn imposing. And she was strong and intimidating and all of these people bowed to her every command, but she was my age. I thought I was just in awe. She was…”

“Gorgeous?”

Clarke felt her cheeks warm, wondering how the two of them had reached a point where in any other circumstance, in any other world, they would be considered to be sharing ‘girl talk’. It didn’t help that it was as if now that she finally was admitting these things out loud to someone other than her or Lexa, it cemented them, and she couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

“I was going to say brilliant, but yes, obviously she was gorgeous and regal, sat up on her throne,” Clarke struggled to hide her smile as she recalled the image. Lexa had been like a giant up there, and yet, at the same time, so small. “And then I got to know her, like really know her…I never stood a chance. She understands me so completely, and she believes in me so resolutely. She was the leader of the 12 clans, and she thinks of me as her equal. And yeah…she is gorgeous.”

Raven nodded, her forehead wrinkling as she turned back to her work.

“Raven, you have to know, my feelings for her had nothing to do with what happened with Finn,” Clarke insisted as her own admittance washed over her and she realized why Raven was even asking in the first place. “I didn’t even realize I felt for her in that way until long after.”

"I know. What Finn did was horrible, and…after the explosion at the mountain, I now understand the Grounders’ thirst for vengeance,” she admitted. “And I know you were only saving him from being tortured. I’ve always known that, Clarke, I just…I see you, and sometimes all I can picture is you standing there with his blood on your hands. And I think of her, and I feel her dragging a dagger across my arm.”

“I know.”

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"A brilliant mechanic who's saved my ass far too many times."

“Ain’t that the truth,” she smirked, holding up the bracelet. “I used one of these to fry ALIE’s connection to my brain. Unfortunately, each one can only be used once. So, the goal is to repair enough of these spares to use on all of Jaha’s groupies.”

"My mom said they weren't doing anything about that right now."

“Your mom’s a bureaucrat, Clarke. They spend too much time in meetings, talking about shit without actually getting any of it done. It’s the little people like me that actually finish the job.”

“Someone’s gotta sit in the meetings, Raven.”

"Doesn't have to be us."

Clarke looked at her questioningly.

“Where’s Lexa, Clarke?”

Clarke’s eyes widened.

“If you want people to think she’s dead, you may not want to talk about her in the present tense.”

“Oh, don’t try that reading emotions bullshit on me, Raven,” Clarke shook her head and pointed at her accusingly, "you bugged the room and caught every word of that meeting.”

Raven shrugged, “You want me to talk emotions? I know that you wouldn’t be here right now if you had even the slightest clue as to where she was. If you had the tiniest hunch on her whereabouts, that one-track mind of yours would be so honed in on locating her that you probably wouldn’t even remember to eat without someone shoving food in your face. You’re like a dog with a bone, sometimes.”

Clarke scoffed.

“ So…what are you doing to find her? Because from what I heard, the Grounders are fixing to crown a psycho with a taste for Skaikru blood as their new leader, and our lovely bureaucrats are betting on a prayer of mercy to save us all. But you…you’re not a bureaucrat. You’re one of us. So, tell me, what’s your plan for bringing back your girlfriend so that you can convince her to save us all over again?”

 

 

 


	5. There Are No Buyers Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the second part of the long ass update I wrote without realizing. It took a bit to post because I kept editing things out, then putting them back in, over and over. Along those lines, I promise after this chapter I won't have anymore long monologues detailing all the ways the Skaikru fucked up, lol. It's just...they're so self-righteous they seem like the type that need it said over and over again. But I think I got all of my frustrations out and all of the loose ends tied up with the Grounder takeover in this chapter, so after this it's time to push the plot forward. Clarke has a certain raccoon-eyed leader to find. Ontari has a coalition to destroy. Lexa has an uprising to lead. When I started this fic, I genuinely thought I could get it all done in 3-4 chapters...

There Are No Buyers Here

 

 

The walls of the tent were thick enough to block the heat of the morning sun as it rose behind them but still allow its golden tinge to light the air. Clarke sat behind the table, right between Indra and Kane as she waited for the proceedings to commence. A man sat to Indra’s left, with bronze skin wrinkled with age and nearly golden eyes. Indra had introduced him as a respected warrior from her clan who had retired his spear in favor of passing on his knowledge of the world to the younger generations.

His voice was calm, and with only a few words, Clarke was able to understand why this man was so honored amongst the Trikru. His grip as he clasped her arm was strong, his fingers wrapping around her entire forearm, but his eyes were gentle, and his words intelligent.

“You are here to reside over the sentencing,” Clarke realized, unable to imagine a presence more well-suited for what would undoubtedly be an anger-provoking task.

"I do not make the judgements," Leons replied steadily. "I simply administer them. It is a wise practice.”

“Some would say cowardly,” Indra grumbled.

Clarke shook her head, “It keeps the direct anger off of you so that, hopefully, we can move forward from this somewhat smoothly. It is smart.”

He nodded before turning to greet the ambassador from Glowing Forest warmly.

Clarke was left in silence and she looked down to where her index finger and thumb were rolling over each other, bringing her thoughts back to the map waiting for her in her own tent. It was the most accurate map of the surrounding areas the Skaikru possessed, having created it during their three months of peace, and Clarke had spent the early morning hours recreating it by candle light, the dark coal marking her finger tips and the outer edge of her pinky.

_Clarke hadn’t been sure how they reached this point. How they had gone from death threats to trading bashful smiles on horseback to seeking out each other’s company in all of the few quiet moments they were graced with. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it had been the same before the Mountain—making excuses, finding reasons, thinking up unnecessary questions just so that they could prolong their talks. But that was before the Mountain._

_Yet there she was, sat in Lexa’s room as the leader of the 12 clans lay stretched out on her sofa, reading quietly to herself in utter peace as Clarke struggled to find the words to fill the letter she had promised her mother she would keep in contact with. She hadn’t been sure how they had reached this point, just that it made absolute sense._

_The sound of Lexa shifting had Clarke looking up to find her shaking her head slightly in an attempt to push aside the tiredness Clarke could see curling all around her._

_“What are you reading?”_

_“It’s about the war strategies of a people called the Spartans,” Lexa had explained, her voice thick as the numerous nearby candles and early spring sun warmed the air around them. “I’ve read it before, but Titus suggested I take a second look.”_

_“Of course he did,” Clarke had rolled her eyes._

_“How’s your letter coming?”_

_“It’s not,” she’d admitted, watching as Lexa resettled herself, blinking slowly at her, a faint smile forming on her lips._

_“I would prefer it if your mother did not come storming into my capital just because you couldn’t suck it up and write to her.”_

_“Did you just…did you just tell me to suck it up?” Clarke had asked incredulously._

_Lexa had looked back down at her book, but her smile grew, “You have been a horrible influence on my language skills, Clarke kom Skaikru.”_

_Clarke had chuckled, “I take that as a compliment.”_

_Lexa had given an amused hum, and Clarke watched as the young woman’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier, the warmed air and peaceful atmosphere proving too much for the overworked Commander. Sleep caught up to her with her lips still bearing a hint of her earlier smile, and Clarke had watched in amazement as the powerful body of a warrior slowly fell limp, the book dropping lightly onto her chest, and her head slowly turning to the side, exposing a long elegant neck._

_Clarke had once again been left wondering how they’d gotten here. How they had reached a point where Lexa felt so at ease around her, so safe, that she would leave herself completely and utterly vulnerable when not that long ago Clarke had held a knife to the very neck Lexa was now placing unabashedly on display. She’d wondered if Lexa could still feel it, the cold steel against her skin. She still could. Not the steel, but the feel of the handle, the softness of her hair, the warmth of her breath as it fanned across her cheeks. She could still see Lexa’s gaze staring back at her, unwavering and far too willing to look death in the eye._

_Clarke had wondered if that’s why Lexa felt so comfortable around her, if that’s why Lexa sought her out even when everyone else shunned her. Clarke carried a sentence of death everywhere she went, but Lexa…Lexa didn’t fear death. She accepted it. She welcomed it._

_Clarke’s eyes had traced over Lexa’s features, noting how much younger she looked in the first peaceful moments of sleep, and her hand had started moving on its own accord across the parchment in her lap, tracing out angles and curves instead of letters, sharp features and soft lips instead of hollow sentiments, the charcoal feeling light in her grip for the first time in a long time._

Clarke’s eyes slowly passed over the faces in the tent, a mixture of Trikru and Rock Line and Glowing Forest—the various shades of war paint decorating the warriors’ skin setting them apart—as well as a small delegation from Skaikru, huddled together in a tight group against the right wall. Octavia and Lincoln stood close together, away from both Grounders and Skaikru, Lincoln resting a hand on Octavia’s back and Octavia leaning into his side. The two had been nearly inseparable ever since things had settled after the battle. Clarke set her jaw and concentrated instead on the list of names Kane was reading off of a piece of parchment beside her.

Each name belonged to a member of a guard or citizen who had resisted the takeover, only surrendering under force. They had been held under a house arrest of sorts in one of the buildings in Arkadia for the past few days, and Indra had decided that escorting all forty or so of them along with the rest of the prisoners would be too much trouble, so there they remained, waiting to hear of their fate as would be decided by complete strangers.

As far as they knew, at least. In truth, though, this is the one decision that Indra had brought Clarke in on, asking her opinion on how to handle such a large group that held open hostility towards the Grounders without simply casting them out, for their numbers could prove useful. They eventually came to a conclusion that seemed to best account for both justice and a unified future. Kane’s voice faded out as he came to the conclusion of the list, and Leons cleared his throat.

“It is not our way to punish fighters who are only following the orders of their leaders. To do so would be to promote insolence. It is also not our way to punish those willing to defend their home. To do so would be to promote a lack of loyalty.”

Clarke nodded, watching as the Arkers hung so closely onto the speaker’s words. She could feel the nerves emanating off of the group, and she could see an indignant anger preemptively settling across the shoulders of some. If they managed to get through the proceedings without a fight breaking out, it would be a miracle.

“But these people _had_ been given a choice. They knew the truth of their leader’s betrayal to the coalition, and they were given a choice, and they chose wrong. It is clear they do not respect our people or our word, so we will teach them respect.”

The Skaikru members bristled, and Clarke fought down her worry. She and Indra made the right decision. They made the best decision.

“Those on the list will be spending time amongst the Trikru. They will be helping to rebuild the village that was destroyed in the attack. They will be helping out in the nearby villages, filling roles that are now left vacant due to the attack on the army sent to protect them.”

“For how long?” A Skaikru voice poised.

Indra’s eyes darkened, “Do not interrupt!”

The Skaikru delegation took a collective step back, effectively startled into silence.

Indra turned to Leons who simply nodded before continuing, “They will be on work detail five days on and two days off. Their schedules will be staggered as the Skaikru cannot afford to lose that many of its own workers at one time. This will last for a minimum of three months. The workers can decrease their sentence after one month by deciding to joining the Trikru army, but their request has to be approved.”

"Why would they join the army of our enemy?" someone asked.

“They are not our enemy,” Kane shook his head, and as Clarke glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she wondered when was the last time he’d gotten any sleep. Everything about him just screamed exhaustion. “The whole purpose of their sentencing is for them to realize that.”

“Perhaps you would like to join them?” Indra suggested, searching the crowd to match a face to the voice. When no one replied, she waved to the guards standing to bring the first group in, the ones that had set out to attack the village. They were a relatively young group with only a couple of guards older than Clarke, herself, and she had to set her face, reminding herself that they had proved themselves worthy of being treated as adults many months ago.

Clarke made eye contact with Monty as he stood directly before her, his face ashen with fear as Kane began to read over their names. With each name read, a hand was raised in confirmation, and when the young man besides Monty was identified, Clarke realized he was the one Miller had stopped her about upon his arrival to the Grounder camp that morning, asking if there were anything she could do for him. Clarke had to tell him that their fate was not up to her, holding back the admission that she didn’t even know he was with someone, let alone that it was serious. It served as a cold reminder of all of the life and happiness that had continued on without her ever since she was locked away in solitary, the world paying no mind to the fact that she wasn’t able to actually join in. She wondered if that’s what it felt like to die...or simply to lead.

The charges were read, their actions presented as the attempted slaughter of a village that Clarke had had to force herself to accept that they were. The accused were allowed to argue their side. Members of Skaikru were allowed to speak on their behalf. Miller and Harper stepped up, side by side, in an attempt to vouch for the lives wavering before them, and Clarke figured if anyone would be able to gain an ounce of sympathy from the Grounders it would be the two of them who had actively opposed Pike from the beginning and who had fought by the Grounders’ side during the takeover. But the only argument any of them could pose was simply pointing out the fact that the group had not actually succeeded in the slaughter of innocents, and, in fact, the only death came from their own camp.

Leons nodded at them, and Indra’s heavy gaze moved from the pair to the group before her and back again. “You two were guards.”

“Yes ma’am, um, General, um, Miss Indra?” Harper gulped, and for a moment Clarke thought she was fifteen again, sharing a biology lab with Harper, the taller girl’s hair pulled back in a set of braids, her face red after having accidentally calling their teacher ‘Mom’.

Indra’s jaw clenched at the poorly hidden chuckles coming from the Grounder warriors in the tent, “You didn’t attack my village.”

This time Harper settled for a shake of her head.

“Why not?”

“Because we did not agree with the a-attack. We did not agree with Pike.”

“It was not a mandatory mission, then?”

Harper’s eyes widened, and Miller’s head fell in realization.

“You need to answer the question,” Leons prodded carefully. “If it was not a mandatory mission, then these are not soldiers simply following orders. These are volunteers. That is an important distinction to make in this sentencing.”

“No, it wasn’t like—“ Miller argued hurriedly before he was cut off.

“We volunteered,” Monty croaked out. “Pike never forced anyone. We had a choice. We chose wrong.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Leons replied before looking amongst the crowd, “Is there anyone else that would like to speak on the prisoners’ behalves?”

“I would,” Clarke admitted, avoiding Miller’s hopeful gaze. “I would like to speak for Monty Green.”

Indra waved for her to continue.

“Monty may have been a part of this mission, but he turned defector before the takeover occurred. He took out a guard that was trying to kill me during negotiations. He provided valuable information to our side that helped guarantee our victory, and during the battle itself, he ran tech interference against the Skaikru. I am not saying that completely absolves what he did in the past, but that it should be taken into consideration.”

Indra nodded again and a mother stepped forward to speak for her son, whom Clarke would put at about 22, though the woman referred to him as a child, and a wife for her husband, but all anyone was able to offer was a plea for leniency without giving any reasons as to why.

Clarke found herself to be thankful when Indra put a stop to the useless pleading, staring down at the charcoal on her fingertips, her own useless pleas for Lexa to not worry about her and instead fight off the guards ringing in her ears.

"The intent of your mission was nothing short of a war crime,” Leons was saying when Clarke regained her focus, swallowing down the lump rising in her throat. “You volunteered to attack a village of innocents, a village containing non-warriors and children, in the dead of night while they slept. But…no lives were lost. We cannot charge you with murders you did not commit,” a collective breath of relief was released from the group before them, and he continued, “Yet, your actions did result in the destruction of a village, of homes, of valuable farm land that provided for my clan.”

As he spoke, Indra was busy, scribbling out a message on a piece of parchment, or rather, adding to the parchment, seemingly correcting a line that was written and adding a note of her own. She slid it over to Leons as his grand, time-buying speech came to a close, and he read out the sentencing.

The prisoners were to be banished from the entire territory of the 12 Clans. They were to be separated and marched to the outer most boundaries where they would be left to fend for themselves. If they were found to have returned into the Clans’ land or to have maintained contact with any members of the Skaikru, they would be put to death. They were all granted a final 24 hours to say goodbye to their families in Arkadia. All of them, except for Monty.

“You chose to join our side without the threat of death staring you down, and that is to be considered,” Leons explained as he stared the Arker down. “You will join the others sentenced to work detail amongst the clans, though yours will last at least twice as long.”

Clarke let out a relieved breath at the sight of a bit of color returning to his visage. An eruption of objections arose from the group of Skaikru in the tent, but Clarke continued to focus on Monty as Indra effectively silenced them.

One. She had been able to save one. It may not have been enough, but it was still something, and it was something that she was willing to cling to. She could still do this. She still had the ability to save people. She was not solely destruction and death. _Hope_.

The group was escorted out, and Clarke turned to Indra, “Thank you.”

“You brought up a good point,” she answered stiffly, “and it was important to reward his turn of loyalty in front of the Skaikru witnesses.”

Clarke nodded, leaning in so that her whisper of a question could be heard, “Does a single clan have the authority to banish someone from the entire land of the 12 Clans?”

“Normally, a village or a clan or a cluster of clans can only banish a person from the territory over which they preside,” she replied. “But if we only ban them from our territory, then they will be living amongst the other clans.”

“You’re afraid they would give information to others once the coalition splits?”

“They would either give it willingly out of spite, or it would be tortured out of them, yes.”

Clarke nodded, trying to mask her tired sigh and failing.

“They will be released in pairs. They will at least have a chance.”

Clarke looked down at her blackened fingers, “That’s all any of us has, really.”

“Are you prepared to continue?”

Clarke could hear the real question behind her words. _Are you prepared for what comes next?_ She straightened in her chair, raising her chin as she witnessed Lexa do countless times when the Commander rose above her emotions, “Yes.”

Eleven people were marched into the tent, and unlike the previous group, their hands were secured behind their backs. The Grounder guards assigned to them stayed within arm’s reach as the prisoners took their positions in front of the table at the head of the tent.

Indra bristled, her voice thin, “One is missing.”

Clarke make a quick count of the group. Eleven. There had been eleven prisoners in the cell. All eleven had made the trek over. She shook her head and turned to Indra in confusion.

“There were twelve people at the field,” Indra continued, each word chewed and spit out with such vehemence, Clarke felt the urge to create more distance between herself and the warrior. She swallowed hard and stayed in her chair, looking to Kane whose eyes were flitting over the group before them before widening.

“Gillmer,” he stated.

 _Gillmer_ , Clarke repeated to herself. She knew that name.

“Sean was not brought in with the rest of us,” Pike shook his head.

“No one told you to speak,” Indra hissed at him before looking to the guards behind the prisoner. “Where is this Gillmer?”

“He’s dead,” Clarke answered, remembering the way her dagger slid cleanly across his neck. Lexa’s dagger, she corrected herself. It still belonged to Lexa. Lexa was still alive.

“How do you know?”

Clarke lifted her chin, “I killed him. He attacked my group in the takeover, so I slit his throat.”

The taste of bile rose in the back of her throat at her own callous reply, but she took note of the crowd’s reaction, particularly of the Grounders’, of their looks of assent, of respect. She caught Inc’s gaze, and he quickly looked away. If being Wanheda was what they wanted, if it was what would allow her to forge this peace, then it was what she would be for them.

“ _I’m sorry I took away that bit of justice from you_ ,” she addressed the Grounders. “ _But he stood in the way of our victory, and I was not going to let that happen_.”

Her words brought a cheer from the crowd as the Skaikru looked on in a mixture of fear and confusion. Indra tried to mask her eye-roll as best she could as she turned to Leons to begin the proceedings once more.

Eleven lives stood before her as their names were read off and their crimes attributed, and Clarke forced herself to take in the face of each and every one of them. She wanted to avert her eyes. She wanted to pretend she wasn’t here, but she thought of Lexa holding Gustus’ eye as she pierced his heart with her sword, and Clarke forced herself to be present. She would not hide from this. The people before her chose their fate. She owed it to the lost lives and to the grieving families not to waiver or shuck her responsibilities simply because it was painful. The prisoners before her made their choice. She was simply seeing to it that they followed through with it to the end.

Bellamy stared back at her, his attempt at his scolded puppy eyes coming off as nothing more than a grimace with his bruised eye and cheek. Clarke closed her hand around the hilt of her dagger, feeling a lingering soreness in her knuckles, welcoming the dig of the engraved hilt against her palm, a dig she was beginning to associate with comfort.

When given the chance, Pike spoke up in defense of the group around them. He did not deny the charges, for there was no point—Indra had been present for the entire attack—but he did try to appeal to Indra as a General, as a leader of soldiers.

“These people were simply following orders. They were being loyal.”

And as he stood there with his head high and his voice rich and sure, Clarke could see how people would turn to him to lead. His argument was an honorable one, she had to give him that. He was not trying to save himself because he recognized the lack of hope in his own fate, so he attempted to save his soldiers. It was a shame, Clarke thought, that he harbored such hate in his heart for the other, for the unknown, because if not for that, he could have been a great Chancellor.

“Is this true?” Indra asked the group of prisoners. Many avoided eye contact. A couple, including Bellamy, nodded.

“ _Cowards_ ,” Clarke found herself spitting out. The group of Skaikru before her looking at her in confusion, unable to translate the word into English.

Indra nodded along with the murmur of agreement amongst the crowd of Grounders in the tent, and Leons turned to the group of Skaikru along the tent wall, asking if any of them had anything to say for the prisoners before they were sentenced. No one stepped forward, and Clarke knew that from their hung heads and weighted shoulders that they all understood. They’d heard the charges being raised against them. They knew that there was nothing to say. Octavia’s face was buried in Lincoln’s shoulder, and he nodded as Clarke met his eye.

He had stopped her that morning as well, telling her that she could not speak up for Pike’s group, no matter how much she wished to save them. The Grounders would not be able to look past her siding with a group of murderers, especially not after she had become a part of their culture. Clarke had cut off his speech, informing him that she had zero intention of speaking for them, but she appreciated his looking out for her.

“Cowards,” Leons addressed the prisoners standing before their table. “That is what Wanheda called you. Cowards. And I completely agree with her. You walked up to a group of allied soldiers in the dead of night, and gunned them down in their sleep. Then, you took your time, walking around and executing those unlucky enough to not die with the first round of bullets. Then, you set your sites on a village—a village mainly of elders and children and those who are unable to fight because you already murdered all of their able-bodied warriors—and attempted to carry out the same plan. You arrived in the dead of night when you expected them all to be sleeping and stepped onto their land, guns drawn.”

Clarke drew in a deep breath through her nose to get through the turning of her stomach as she continued to force herself to look at their faces. Some wore guilt. Some wore defiance. Some stood there utterly emotionless in shock.

“You,” Leons pointed at Bellamy. “You killed two of our messengers who posed you no threat. You killed two guards whose sole purpose was to protect one of your own.”

“They would only betray her,” Bellamy shook his head.

“You betrayed me,” Clarke replied lowly.

Leons raised a hand as Bellamy started to reply, “Your time to speak is over. You had your chance. All of you had far too many chances. And still, you choose to be cowards, standing in front of us today and lying to our faces. Pike did not force you into this. Your people already confessed that you volunteered, that Pike never forced your hand. _Cowards_.”

Indra passed him a slip of paper, and his eyes glanced over it before nodding.

Leons read off a list of nine names, speaking clearly and surely, “For the innocent lives you have taken, you are sentenced to death by beheading.”

Aden, Clarke’s hand clenched painfully around the dagger.

“Bellamy Blake, for the innocent lives you have taken on multiple occasions, you are sentenced to death by blade preceded by 304 cuts.”

Clarke swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

“I did not kill all those people by myself,” he argued with a firm shake of his head.

“You supplied the guns, knowing what they were for,” Indra replied. “You pushed for Pike’s election even though you were one of the few that knew of his plan to slaughter my army.”

Clarke’s eyes widened at this information. Kane tensed beside her, and she realized where Indra must have heard it from.

“I saved you,” Bellamy’s eyes darkened as he stepped forward. The guard behind him slammed the butt of his spear to the back of his leg, and Bellamy fell to his knees. “The only reason you are alive is because of me!”

“The only reason I am alive is because you are a terrible shot,” Indra’s hand clenched into a fist on the table.

“This isn’t—“

“ _Enough_!” She slammed her fist onto the table, and her tone was enough to portray the meaning of the word for all who did not understand. “You thought you were man enough to run around, committing war crimes, yet you are not enough of a man to stand here and face the consequences of your own choices. You are the worst kind of coward.”

Bellamy glowered at her, but did not reply, aware of the guard that had stepped even closer behind him.

“Charles Pike,” Leons spoke once more. “For orchestrating and carrying out the murder of 300 innocent allies, for committing treason against the Commander’s Coalition, for orchestrating the attempted murder of a village full of elders and children, you are sentenced to death in our traditional manner for those who kill innocents. You will feel the pain of every single life that was lost due to your command. It starts with fire…”

__

  
Outside the tent, with the sun glaring in her face, Clarke braced herself as she noticed Miller quickly approaching. Silo stepped closer to her side, and Deen moved to stand in front of her, but Clarke raised a hand to halt him at her side, despite her craving the solitude of the inside of her tent.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Miller implored, his eyes red as he pointed at her accusingly. “You stood up for Monty, why didn’t you do that for Brian?”

“All I did was remind Indra of Monty’s actions. He stood up for himself,” Clarke replied, even though she felt the familiar grip of guilt sliding its way through her gut. “I wasn’t going to lie. There is too much riding on this.”

“Brian—“

“Made his choice.”

“He’s a good guy. He’s a good person.”

“I don’t know anything about him,” she shook her head. “All I know are his actions, the actions that _he_ decided to commit.”

“You know _me_ , though,” he stepped closer.

Clarke tilted her head as she studied the young man before her, blinking slowly as she took him in.

“I vouched for him.”

“I don’t know you,” she realized out loud.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Clarke—“

“I...You weren’t in any of my classes before I was locked up. I knew you for a few weeks on the ground, and I think we had maybe three conversations that mostly consisted of you being a bit of a jerk because you were fully onboard with Bellamy’s ‘whatever the hell we want’ philosophy. Then, you were trapped inside Mt. Weather, and I was busy escaping and making alliances with the Grounders and planning a war with them. I rescued you, but didn’t join you at Camp Jaha. When you opened that door in the Grounders’ takeover, that was the first time I talked to you in five months. This is the…sixth conversation we’ve ever had? I don’t know you. I’ve lived with the Grounders far longer than I ever lived alongside of you.”

“How can you say that?” He asked incredulously.

“It’s the truth,” Clarke breathed. “Why is everyone so shocked when I point it out? Did you all expect me to continue to blindly save you, no matter what atrocities you commit? No matter how far you went? Or who you hurt?”

“You are Skaikru.”

“I am a criminal they cast out,” Clarke gave a fake smile. “As are you. They thought so little of our lives that they sent us on what they thought was a suicide mission. Or have you forgotten about that?”

Miller shifted uncomfortably, and Clarke could feel a bead of sweat making its way down her spine. She longed for the privacy and shade of her own tent where she could take off the jacket that was more for protection than needed warmth and get back to the map she was copying.

“I’ve been living with the Grounders for months now. I’ve learned so much from them. It will do the rest of Skaikru well to do the same.”

“You’ve changed,” he accused.

“Maybe change isn’t always a bad thing,” Clarke replied before stepping away and finishing her journey to her personal tent.

Silo stepped inside first, and Clarke raised a tired eyebrow at the sound of rustling coming from within as she and Deen waited outside. Silo emerged from the tent with a firm hand around the upper arm of a struggling brunette.

“Octavia,” Clarke greeted flatly. “How did I disappoint you today?”

“You said nothing when Bellamy was up there,” she pointed out heatedly.

“You said nothing.”

“I don’t have a voice with the Grounders, remember?”

“You have a voice with Indra.”

“I—“

“You said nothing because there was nothing to say. You said yourself that Bellamy was wrong. But what? Now that Lincoln is safe, you’ve suddenly forgotten everything he’s done?”

“That’s not true,” she replied firmly.

“Actions have to have consequences. Killing innocent people has to have consequences. Do his actions over the past few weeks need to be spelled out yet again? He had so many chances…this is not my fault.”

“You know this isn’t him.”

“Do I?”

“He needed you.”

“He is a grown man who knows right from wrong.”

“Clarke…”

“I’m done, Octavia.”

“Done? With what?”

“All of this,” she motioned between them. “There are so many things so much more important and so much bigger than this. This. This is simple. They slaughtered innocents in a time of peace between our people. There is no coming back from that. And I…I’m so tired of taking two steps forward only to have my supposed people drag us five steps backward. I’m done. The Grounders deserve justice. I will not stand in the way of that. I have things that need my focus, and saving my people from their own hate-filled stupidity is not one of them.”

“Clarke—“

“I’m done,” Clarke waved her hands and side stepped the girl in order to enter her tent, assured in the fact that Deen and Silo would ensure her privacy. She took a steadying breath before shrugging off the leather jacket messily and tossing it onto her cot. She rubbed frustratingly at the moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes before cursing and kicking at the makeshift bed. Her hand gripped the dagger at her waist as she clenched her jaw against the feel of tears on her cheeks, letting out a frustrated growl at her inability to keep them at bay.

 

\--

 

The sun was bright in the cloudless, early morning sky, and Clarke wondered if there was such a thing as ‘good weather’ for an execution. Or for eleven executions. A tall post stood stark in the field that was decorated with blood and bullet shells not that long ago, and Clarke stood stock still beside Indra as eleven prisoners were marched forward, their hands restrained behind their backs, spears pointed at them from either side. Grounders were gathered behind the group of leaders Clarke found herself in, and a group of Skaikru representatives stood off to the side, flanked by Grounder guards.

“If any of the guilty have any final words, now is the time,” Leons instructed.

“Please,” Pike swallowed hard against the nerves in his voice. “Have mercy on my soldiers. It was my choice to kill the army and attack the village.”

“It was their choice to participate,” Indra replied through gritted teeth.

“You are only proving yourself to be the savages my people see you as if you do this,” Pike shook his head. “Are you that incapable of mercy?”

“Mercy?” Clarke snarled lowly, but Leons stepped forward.

“My people showed you mercy. My Commander showed you mercy. You barged into the capital with weapons, breaking our laws. You killed two innocent tower workers. You barged into a ceremony to which you were not invited, and my Commander showed you mercy. She did not arrest you. She did not demand two lives to repair the innocent ones lost. She went through with her promise of the coalition. She gave you an armed escort home to keep you safe. She sent an army to protect your people from further attack against the Ice Nation…attacks that occurred after your people broke our truce and killed Ice Nation warriors in their territory.”

Bellamy’s eyes fell guiltily, as Leons slowly walked towards them, intent behind every step and every word as he stalked forward with a purpose.

“You arrested my people, sick villagers whom you invited to find medical help with your technology. You arrested them and deprived them of aid. You attacked an army of allies in their sleep, slaughtering them while they were defenseless, executing them while they were wounded. You attempted to arrest Wanheda when she attempted to bring you a truce. And still, my Commander showed you mercy. She did not ask for repayment of the lives lost. All she asked was that you refrain from acting against the coalition again. If you did that, then you would be forgiven. But you could not do that,” Leons shook his head as he paused right in front of Pike.

Clarke bit down hard on her bottom lip as she was yet again reminded the lengths Lexa had gone to for peace, for her.

“You attacked a village that contained no warriors with the intent to wipe them out and take their land for your own. And still, and still,” he spat out as Pike raised his chin to hold his stare, “my Commander showed mercy. All that was asked was that the guilty step forward. If that happened, then the innocent would be spared. But you could not do that. And because of your refusal to own your actions, more people, my people, had to die. We have no more mercy left to give. You killed it all.”

Clarke screwed her eyes shut and made a move to turn and excuse herself, but a hand grasped her upper arm firmly, and she looked to find Indra holding her in place. “I can’t be here for this,” she admitted, her voice a barely there whisper.

“You have to be,” Indra answered below her breath.

“I pushed for her mercy. I pushed for peace. I…I did this. All of those people are dead because of me. She’s gone because of me.”

“It was Lexa’s decision to push forward with peace. Saving as many lives as possible was always her first choice.”

 _Finn. The poison. The Mountain._ Clarke released a shuttering breath as she recalled all the times she witnessed Lexa push for peace through means of sparing and saving the most lives possible. “I—“

“You did your job as an ambassador,” Indra cut her off succinctly. “That’s what you did. That’s what you need to do right now. All of those eyes behind us are on you just as much as they’re on the guilty.”

Clarke nodded, sniffing back new tears and quickly wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“Clarke…” Bellamy’s voice came out as a plea, and she turned to find his eyes trained on her face gaugingly. “You don’t want this. I can see that. I know you; you know this isn’t right.”

A dry laugh bubbled from behind her lips in shock, “You think these tears are for you?”

Bellamy faltered, and for a moment Clarke could see a wave of fear pushing through his visage, as if he were, for the first time, realizing that this was actually going to happen.

“These…” She gripped the hilt of the dagger, steadying her cracking voice. “These tears are for all the lives lost. These tears are for all the families and loves torn apart. These tears are not for you. You…you never deserved her mercy, and you don’t deserve my tears. If you knew me like you say,” she raised her voice, “then you’d know that I support this sentencing, one hundred percent. Justice is a right, and these people deserve that right.”

The first nine executions happened quickly, relatively so, Clarke thought, for something as complicated and final as the ending of a life. Indra gave Kane a nod, and he recited the Traveler’s Blessing to the group as a whole, and Clarke felt a wave of respect towards the woman beside her, knowing that the leader did not have to allow the moment of reverence for Arker tradition. The guilty were then marched forward, one-by-one, and bent over a large, flat boulder. They were told that their fight was over, though Clarke doubted any of them even knew how to translate what was being said, let alone the significance of the phrase. A large, sharpened sword was raised and brought down cleanly with a practiced precision that set Clarke both grateful and queasy.

Afterwards, Bellamy was tied up to the tall pole driven into the earth, and Clarke stared at the weather worn trunk, picking a spot just above the messy mop of black hair and stared until her vision blurred. She stared until she couldn’t see the tree or the mop of hair or the young man she had once depended upon to survive as one after another, people stepped forward to slash through his flesh, leaving marks for the lives taken from them. She stared until she felt a dagger being pushed into her hand.

Clarke blinked rapidly to clear her vision, finding Indra staring at her expectantly, “Me?”

“Georg was your guard.”

“He was Lexa’s guard.”

“Lexa is gone. He was here for you. He did not have a family. He did not have a village. All he had was his duty. To Lexa and to you.”

Clarke’s hand shook as she looked down at the heavy dagger in her hand. It was simple and unassuming, yet perfectly capable of doing its job if the blood rolling down the blade were any indication. She looked around Indra to the post to find Bellamy’s head slumped forward, cuts decorating his exposed skin, blood soaking his clothes from hidden wounds.

_The Mighty Wanheda._

_Who turned her back on us._

_You left me._

_You left everyone._

_People die when you’re in charge._

“This is my fault,” Clarke croaked softly before shaking her head. “I’m not strong enough for this.”

“You survived it before. You’ll do it again.”

Clarke opened her mouth to reply before closing it, her nose wrinkling against the sting behind her eyes, “I survived it because I had Lexa coaching me through it.”

“And have you suddenly forgotten everything she passed on to you?”

“Of course not.”

Indra stepped out of her path, and Clarke took a steadying breath before making her way over to the post, forcing her head high and her shoulders back. Even slumping, Bellamy still towered over her, and she had to fight the urge to turn her wrist against the feel of handcuffs. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet her own, the bruises from her fit of rage hidden under a skimming of blood.

Clarke stood her ground, despite the urge to step back, caught off guard by the amount of anger he managed to still put behind his gaze.

“I’m sorry…that it’s ending like this,” Clarke said softly.

“Too late,” he coughed out. “For your apologies.”

Clarke closed her eyes shut as she raised the knife.

“Won’t have anyone…to stand beside you…and help with that burden…”

Clarke’s eyes snapped back to his, “If you had truly been willing and able to help with that burden, I would have stayed. I would have come back.”

“Too busy…in Polis.”

“Exactly,” Clarke nodded, before dragging the dagger horizontally across his forearm.

“Should’ve killed you…when I had the chance.”

Clarke looked him in the eye and recited, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

“Traitor,” he hissed out as she walked away.

Clarke let out a slow breath and handed the dagger to the next Grounder. Bellamy didn’t make it to the sword. His eyes closed around cut 105 and his head stopped moving against his chest with each shallow breath around 130. The Grounders continued with the ritual, carrying out every slash until there was no inch of skin left unharmed. Indra finished it with a sword to the heart, and his limp body was taken away to be burned with the others at the end of the day.

Clarke breathed through the tears. 304 innocent lives, she reminded herself.

_To lead well, you must make hard choices._

_You left everyone._

Clarke shook her head, attempting to clear her head as Pike was brought to the post. His arms were drawn back and secured, his feet tied together. It started with fire.

  
\--

 

Clarke’s boots slid heavily across the grass as she dragged one foot in front of the other, in order to make it back to camp. It was over. Pike and his volunteers had been executed. The guards involved in the attack on the village had been separated into pairs and marched into the forest with guides and guards that would lead them to the outskirts of the 12 Clans. There had been screams and tears and everywhere Clarke turned she was greeted with accusatory looks of betrayal. But it was over. Except for the looks, Clarke supposed. She had already learned the depths of which human beings were capable of holding a grudge.

She rounded the corner of a group of tents to find Murphy and Emori seated on a log on the outskirts of what was last night’s fire. She felt her shoulders relax somewhat when Emori motioned for her to join them, and she sat down on a stump a few feet away, Deen and Silo choosing to stand back and keep an eye on their surroundings. Clarke supposed they, too, had noticed the looks; it was their job to notice such things after all.

“What?” Murphy asked, mouth full of what had to be at least week old bread, when he noticed Clarke’s stare directed at him.

Clarke shook her head, “Just trying to figure out when I started considering you a friendly face.”

At that Emori chuckled, and Murphy rolled his eyes, “How was the bonfire?”

Clarke paled and held a hand out. Murphy handed over his flask with a sigh, and Clarke pulled a long swallow from it, closing her eyes and following the burning path it trailed down her throat, through her chest, and settling heavily in her stomach.

“While you’re on an execution kick, have you thought about Jaha? Death seems a bit final, but considering what happened the last time he ventured out on his own, I don’t think banishment will do the trick.”

“You think Jaha deserves to die?” Clarke asked in surprise.

“Well, I imagine A.L.I.E. is the ring leader, but Jaha is the one that locked me up by myself for three months. Do you know what it’s like to—“ he trailed off with a laugh as Clarke glared. “Never mind, of course you do. At least you had guards to talk to.”

“They were forbidden to speak to me unless it was to issue commands,” Clarke replied bitterly. “I’m surprised they weren’t told to wear ear plugs to avoid hearing my ‘treasonous conspiracies’.”

“You know, there’s a certain irony in the one called Princess being the one who was actually in the deepest shit on the Ark.”

“I’m aware.”

“What did you do?” Emori asked curiously.

“Tried to save people.”

“And you were arrested for it?”

“You’d think she would have learned her lesson by now,” Murphy laughed.

Clarke raised the flask in agreement before taking another deep drink, “Raven’s working on the Jaha mess. I’m sure she could benefit from what you know.”

“Because she and I get along so well.”

“Because she’s in more pain than she’s ever been in in her life, so I imagine she wants to take down Jaha and A.L.I.E just as much as you do.”

“I’m not a computer genius.”

“Just tell her what you know, at least. Especially about what happened with Titus.”

Murphy stiffened, “I still don’t get how the Grounders connect to A.L.I.E.”

“Just tell her what you know.”

Emori’s hand that had found its way to Murphy’s knee gave a careful squeeze, and he rolled his eyes, but agreed, “Fine, but I’m not going in there. She’ll have to come to me.”

“Thank you.”

“And what about you? What are you doing to save the world today, Clarke Griffin?”

Clarke ignored the sarcasm in his voice and answered honestly, “I’m going to find Lexa.”

“Any idea where they could’ve taken her?” Emori asked.

“South.”

“That’s not vague at all," Murphy mumbled.

Clarke nodded.

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“She has to be.”

 

 


End file.
